


How the West Was Lost

by lost_spook



Category: Carry on Cowboy, Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-01
Updated: 2009-02-01
Packaged: 2017-11-07 01:31:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 22,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/425438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lost_spook/pseuds/lost_spook
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What the good citizens of Stodge City want is a US Peace Marshal to run the Rumpo Kid out of town.  What they <i>get</i> is a confused sanitation engineer, demure Miss Oakley with a rifle in her trunk, an elegant Time Lord who’s the living spit of the dead sheriff and a sceptical Brigadier who might just be the only man in the town who can shoot straight.  </p><p>The Old West was <i>never</i> like this…</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Welcome to the (Not So) Wild West

**Author's Note:**

> For the purposes of the story all you need to know about Carry On Cowboy is that Jon Pertwee played the ill-fated sheriff Albert Earp, Angela Douglas (later Doris Lethbridge-Stewart) played Annie Oakley and there's also one Peter Butterworth as Stodge City's doctor.
> 
> Quite a few lines of dialogue & jokes are taken directly from the film, and are therefore the work of Talbot Rothwell.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who and the Carry On franchise belongs to Gerald Thomas & Peter Rogers. Any dodgy accents are _completely_ intentional.

Until the last five minutes, it had been a quiet morning at UNIT HQ. 

That, the Brigadier reflected, lay at the heart of the problem. Few things caused more trouble than days when the Doctor had nothing to do and, without Miss Shaw around, he was worse than ever. No one had issued an army handbook on how to keep bored and petulant Time Lords from trying risky experiments on the premises. It seemed, at this precise moment, an appalling oversight.

This went some way to explaining why they were both standing in a hot, dusty alley way between two wooden structures, facing each other across the console of the Doctor’s machine. The Doctor was glaring back at him, having taken offence when the Brigadier enquired what it was he’d done this time and where on earth were they?

“Well, it’s not _my_ fault!”

The Brigadier surveyed the Doctor. Considering the man was an all-round genius and an exasperatingly brilliant scientist who had several times saved the world, it was even more maddening that he was now leaning against his TARDIS console, his arms folded and a sulky expression on his face. For someone who liked to claim superiority over mere humans, there was a distinctly childish aspect to his behaviour. He might as well have stuck his tongue out at him.

“Doctor,” he said wearily, “this is down to your blasted machine. What’s more, _you_ rigged up the thing to have ‘one last experiment’. You requested that I pull the switch for you. In what respect is this _not_ your fault?”

He glared at him. “Lethbridge-Stewart, you’re an idiot. I should have thought it was perfectly obvious that I didn’t mean _that_ switch! I meant the blue one.”

“Perhaps you should have been a little more specific in your instructions?” returned the Brigadier, mildly, still glancing around him, trying unsuccessfully to get his bearings. “Anyway, I only asked where you’d taken us. I think that – and how we’re going to get back again before we both lose our posts – is a more pressing concern.”

He shrugged. “Well, given the state the old girl’s in, I don’t know. To be perfectly frank, I don’t care. It looks more interesting than UNIT HQ and I needed a change of scenery.”

“That’s not an acceptable answer,” said the Brigadier. He decided not to lose his temper yet. He was sure the Doctor would come up with a solution. This was, after all, a problem of his own making, and he could fix any other impossible situations thrown at him. “Do you have any idea where we are? Because, incredible as it seems to me, I don’t think this can be anywhere in Britain in January. It’s never this hot, even in August.”

He said, “Well, I didn’t expect this to work. I set it for a century or so back in time, but I left the location up to the old girl.”

Disbelief battled anger within the Brigadier. It was a reaction he was beginning to get used to. “Doctor, give me a rough guess at least.”

“Well,” he said. They were behind a wooden structure built on a dusty road and the sun was burning down on them. He coughed. “Judging by what I can see – and given that this is your planet I should have thought you could have come to the same conclusion if you had any brains at all – I’d say the American West. I've been here before, you know.”*

They both glanced down the side of the building to the wider road as someone rode past on a horse.

“Doctor, you cannot be serious,” said the Brigadier.

*

“I suppose,” said the Doctor, putting a hand to his chin, “I suppose, that given the right equipment, I _might_ just be able to push the console into making the return trip. Last time I tried, it needed a great deal of energy, but I seem to have made a good job of patching up the central column. Probably what made this possible. As I said, I merely wondered if I could persuade it to make a short hop backwards with the repairs I’ve made lately.”

The Brigadier folded his arms. “When we get back, I’m confiscating the thing.”

“Oh, do be reasonable,” he said. “You know I didn’t intend for this to happen. I’d hardly have chosen to bring _you_ along with me if I had!”

He sighed. “Very well. What sort of things do we need?”

To his annoyance, the Doctor merely looked amused and tried to hide laughter.

“What?”

He coughed. “Well, we either need to rob a hardware store, or start by holding up the bank.”

“I’m sure we can come to a better arrangement,” said the Brigadier with a glint in his eye.

The Doctor shook his head. “If you’d only not gone and pressed the wrong switch – I told you no good would come of sending Liz away.”

“I didn’t,” said the Brigadier. “You know very well that Miss Shaw makes her own decisions. I’m in the process of finding you a new assistant and, believe me, I’m in complete agreement in wishing that she was already here and I wasn’t.”

He smiled suddenly. “Well, come along, Lethbridge-Stewart. This should be fun.”

“Should it?” he returned. “I don’t subscribe to a lot of romantic nonsense about the past.”

The Doctor paused. “You don’t?”

“No.”

“I’d have thought you were the patriotic sort,” said the Doctor. “Cry God for Harry and St George and all that.”

He smiled to himself. “Thank you, Doctor. That doesn’t mean I believe there ever was a Merrie England or any of those other mythical eras. I should imagine that most people have spent their lives trying to get by, no matter what period they lived in. And most of them would have a harder time of it than nowadays.”

“Dear me,” said the Doctor. “I suppose there’s truth in that, but what a dull way to think. I might have known.”

“Memorable events aren’t necessarily pleasant to live through.”

“Hmm,” he returned, but he clearly wasn’t prepared to stop arguing with a military idiot yet.

*

They rounded the corner and found themselves facing a welcome sign.

“Stodge City?” said the Brigadier.

The Doctor frowned. “Someone’s been crossing out the number of inhabitants. That’s rather a lot of deaths, I’d say.”

“ _Stodge_ City?”

The Doctor turned. “Stop complaining about the name, Brigadier. Studying a map of England will give you enough cause for amusement. If you can have places called Chipping Sodbury, Pity Me and No Place, I don’t see that you can comment on the eccentricities of US nomenclature.”

“I suppose,” said the Brigadier. “Seems a little unlikely to me.”

They were both stopped as stagecoach pulled up beside them. They both watched as a blonde girl in a large hat and a long yellow dress emerged and then a young man shouted for them to help with the driver.

“He just passed out,” he explained to the Brigadier, who swiftly moved across to give him a hand. “Must have been the shock of the fighting. All those Indians.”

The Brigadier raised his eyebrows. “Indians?”

“Yes. Lots of them,” he said. “It was a hairy moment, I can tell you, but I managed to scare them off – got three with two shots, you know. And Miss Oakley was wonderful.”

The Brigadier frowned as he examined the driver. “That’s odd. Looks to me as if he had a blow to the head.”

The young man stared at him. “None of them got that close.”

“See here,” he said.

“Gosh, yes,” said the unlikeliest recruit the Wild West had seen in many years. “Oh, I know. Maybe it was the luggage. Some of the cases fell off during the fighting.”

He smiled faintly. “Could be.”

“You know,” said the young man, “somehow I didn’t expect it to be like this.”

“Didn’t you?”

“Well, no. I mean, I knew the town was in a mess, but nobody mentioned Indians. I’m Marshall P Knutt, by the way. I’m a sanitation engineer (first class) – they’ve sent me to clean up the town.”

The Brigadier paused. “Young man, is that some kind of joke?”

“No,” he said, offended. “I’m always completely serious when it comes to drains. Who are you? Are you the judge?”

He shook his head. “I’m Lethbridge-Stewart.”

“You’re English, too,” he said.

The Brigadier nodded. "More or less."

“Well, what are you doing here?”

He thought about that. Eventually, he said, “Let’s just say that I’m here at the mercy of the whim of a rather eccentric travelling companion.”

*

On the other side of the coach, the Doctor was having a novel experience. He gave the young lady a hand out of the coach and she paused to bestow a bright smile on him. Then she stopped and stared, blue eyes wide with shock.

“Is something wrong, madam?”

She flung herself at him. “ _Father_! They said you were _dead_. They said someone’d shot you. Oh, I’m so _glad_.”

He blinked at the unexpected embrace from a charming but possibly mentally unbalanced young woman. “I’m afraid, my dear, that I’m not your father. You must be mistaken.”

She drew back and coloured, looking at him closely and biting her lip in disappointment. “No, no. You’re younger, of course. And Father wouldn’t have even known who I was without his glasses-. But you look so very much like him. You even sound like him. Who are you?”

“A travelling scientist,” he said.

She wrinkled her nose. “Here? Well, I was told to watch out for all sorts of odd people when I set out West, but all I’ve met so far apart from those Indians is a sanitation engineer and a scientist. It’s funny, isn’t it?”

“I suppose it is,” he said with a smile. “Did you say someone had shot your father? That’s terrible.”

She paused. “It is, isn’t it? And him with no one but little old me to avenge the murder.”

“Dear me,” he said. “I don’t think vengeance is a good idea.”

The doll-like young woman shrugged. “Don’t you? Oh, well.”

*

The Brigadier started to get the luggage down from the top of the coach, along with Knutt, but had to pause to shoo away an over-enthusiastic undertaker who’d come out to take the measurements of the prone stagecoach driver.

“He’s not dead,” he pointed out.

The undertaker’s face dropped. “Well, he shouldn’t lie about in the road like that. How’s a man to know?”

“You see someone lying in the street and you assume he’s dead?”

“Well, yes,” said the undertaker. “That’s usually how it goes.”

Marshall P Knutt looked alarmed. “What sort of town is this? Good grief, you haven’t got Cholera or something, have you?”

“Right,” said the Brigadier. “We’ll need to take these cases along to wherever you want them and find some sort of doctor to see to that chap.”

“Oh, good idea. Oh, be careful with that one, it’s Annie’s.”

The Brigadier glanced down at the exceptionally heavy case in his hands. “Annie’s? Do you mean to say that your travelling companion is _Annie Oakley_?”

“Yes. Is there something wrong with that?”

*

“Doctor,” said the Brigadier, marching back around the coach to find the Doctor still talking away to Miss Oakley, “there’s something very fishy about this whole set up.”

They both turned to look at him and he got his first proper sight of the young lady. The question of whether or not she could be _the_ Annie Oakley deserted him in the shock of seeing a girl who was the living image of someone he hadn’t seen in years. _Good grief_ , he thought.

“Fishy?” said the Doctor.

The young woman frowned. “It was rather odd about those Indians,” she said. “I hear they’re usually peaceful around here.”

“Peaceful?” said Marshall, sounding close to hysteria. “They killed one of the stagecoach chappies and they’d have got the rest of us if – well - .”

She gave a demure smile. “Mr Knutt managed to scare them away. He was ever so brave.”

The Brigadier was lost for words this time and beginning to wonder if there was any way this could be some sort of extreme practical joke on the part of the Doctor. He coughed. “You’re… Miss Oakley, is it? Annie Oakley?”

“Why, yes,” she moved forward to shake his hand. “I didn’t think anyone was expecting me. Who are you?”

“Mr Stewart, he said, Miss Oakley,” Marshall put in helpfully and ever-so-slightly possessively. “Les Bridge Stewart or something, that was what you said, wasn’t it? He’s from England, too.”

She lowered her long lashes, but she was biting back laughter and it was a disturbingly familiar sight. “What a long way to come out West to meet three Englishmen. I think I shall have to find myself some rooms and have a rest to recover from the shock of it.”

Marshall nodded. “Right. Well, I need to find the judge and someone had better get the doctor for that poor fellow. That undertaker’s back out there again.”

“Good luck with your drains,” said Miss Oakley, before departing in search of a place to stay, a case in each hand.

The sanitation engineer hurried after her. “Shall I carry something for you?”

“No, thank you,” she said. “You go back and see to that poor man before he’s buried alive.”

*

Before any of them could go in search of the local doctor, three middle-aged men hurried over to the stagecoach.

One of them instantly pushed the undertaker away and knelt beside the fallen driver, so the Brigadier decided to assume he was the town’s doctor and not a rival in the funeral business.

The other two looked at Marshall, the Brigadier and the Doctor eagerly.

“So,” the first said, “which of you is the US Peace Marshal? We’ve bin waitin’ for you for days.”

*

“Well,” said Marshall eventually, “I’m called Marshall – Marshall P. Knutt – but I’m a sanitation engineer (first class). I hear you’ve got terrible trouble with your drains.”

The man stared at him. “I’m Judge Burke,” he announced. “So who’s the actual Marshal, then, Marshall? One of you had better be, because someone’s gotta run that Rumpo Kid out of town.”

“He is,” said the Doctor, gesturing at the Brigadier.

*

“Doctor,” said the Brigadier in an undertone, “if you weren’t our only hope of getting out of here, I’d be tempted to shoot you myself. What did you mean by that?”

He sighed. “Really, where are your wits? It’s obvious what’s happened, isn’t it? Somewhere along the line, someone’s confused that young man’s name with his occupation. No one’s sent a Peace Marshal and if it’s left to young Knutt, he won’t last two seconds against a ruthless outlaw. And I’m going to be far too busy fixing the TARDIS.”

“I see,” said the Brigadier, biting back amusement he wasn’t prepared to let the Doctor see yet. “I suppose.”

He smiled at him and clapped him on the shoulder. “You’ll do splendidly! And I’m sure if you get rid of this Rumble fellow, they’ll give us anything we need – such as spare bits and pieces I might be able to use for the TARDIS.”

“Yes, I understand,” said the Brigadier. “If in the meantime, I’m had up for impersonating an officer of the law, I shall know who to blame.”

The Doctor shook his head. “Remind me never to take you anywhere again, Les.”

“Quite,” he returned with emphasis. 

***

* _The Gunfighters_ : There was a showdown at the OK Corral with Wyatt Earp and the Clantons, and... long story.


	2. Tonight is the Night for... Card Tricks?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Doctor meets the Rumpo Kid, Marshall is reduced to drains, Annie is frustrated in her plans and the Brigadier engages in some fancy shootin'.

While the Brigadier was being eagerly hustled off to the sheriff’s place by Judge Burke, the mayor, and his cronies, the Doctor strolled down the main street. He didn’t know what the Brigadier meant. It looked like the American West as _he_ remembered it.# 

He entered the saloon – Rumpo's Place – and crossed to the bar.

Charlie the bartender looked up from wiping a glass. “You wantin’ somethin’?”

“I wondered if you had any spare rooms.”

“My, my,” said a female voice from above them, “not another one. You’re the third person wanting rooms in as many minutes.”

The Doctor watched the landlady make her grand entrance down the central staircase. “I hope you’ve got something left for me, then.”

“Certainly,” said the woman with a smile. She was wearing a tight-fitting dress that left little to the imagination and her blonde hair was piled up on top of her head. “I’m very accommodatin’, as I’m certain you’ll find.”

The Doctor scratched the back of his neck. “Yes, well, that sounds satisfactory.”

“Belle!”

All three of them turned as a newcomer entered at a pace. “Bad news,” he said and then paused to give the Doctor a long look. He removed his black cowboy’s hat, revealing grizzled grey hair and a weathered face. “Who’s this, then, Belle?”

“I hadn’t got as far as findin’ out, Johnny,” she returned, finishing her descent down the stairs.

The Doctor held out a hand to the man. “I’m the Doctor. I arrived in town this morning.”

“This morning, eh?” He surveyed him with obvious suspicion. “You came in with that Marshal, then?”

Belle clutched at her skirts and sped up to reach his side. “Marshal? Johnny, what d’you mean?”

“What I said,” he returned, spitting in the corner. “That old idiot Burke has called in a US Peace Marshal.”

The Doctor folded his arms. “Oh, we merely happened to be travelling together. You needn’t mind me, old fellow. I’m only a harmless, eccentric old inventor.”

“What, here in Stodge City?”

He thought about this. “I was hoping to try my hand at a bit of prospecting. You need funding for scientific research, you know.”

“You need funding?” said the man, grinning suddenly. “You stick with me and you’ll be all right. I could use an intelligent man like you. There’s not many in this town with any brains at all.”

He shook his hand. “And you are -?”

“Johnny Finger, known as the Rumpo Kid,” he said and winked at him before giving Belle a slap on the rear. 

Belle caught hold of him. “But, Johnny, a Marshal – you’d better leave town.”

“Don’t you worry,” he said. “I’ll think of something. We’ll have him out of town or under it before we’re done – six feet under it…”

*

“Johnny,” said Belle in an undertone, after she’d directed the stranger up to his rooms. “Did you see? He’s the livin’ spit of old Earp! What the hell is going on round here?”

He chewed at a piece of straw. “Oh, I saw all right. He must think I’m a right twerp. Didn’t even bother to make an effort at a disguise or something. It’s plain as the sign outside this bar what’s happened.”

“Is it?” She caught hold of his arm. “You’re so clever.”

He grinned. “Yeah, I am. And no relative of Earp after vengeance is catching me out with a half-wit story like that. An inventor prospecting for gold?”

“Yes,” agreed Belle. “Then there’s that little minx who arrived along with them. She’s probably been sent to get you off your guard.”

His grin widened into a leer. “Has she now? That sounds like my kind of fun.”

“You know you don’t mean that, Johnny,” she said. “Mind you, I don’t think the other one is part of it. He’s out the back somewhere, examining the drains.”

The Rumpo Kid scowled. “He’s what? Oh, well, _he’ll_ have to go. I can’t be doing with some plumber poking his nose in where he’s not wanted. Look, we’ll show this Marshal what he’s up against, you wait and see. I’ll think of a little something to deal with his friends first. That should get the message through.”

“Ooh, you’re ruthless,” said Belle, but it was more of a compliment than a complaint.

He laughed. “You know me so well. I can’t be doing with killjoys ands spoilsports and this town’s chock full of them.”

“Less so now,” she reminded him, straightening his collar.

He kissed her lightly. “Well, we’ll deal with these two, then that interfering Marshal. After that, I’ll have to be rid of that twit of a Burke. Mind you, a yellow streak of a hypocrite like that’s hardly worth a bullet.”

“I’m not poisoning him, not in here,” said Belle. “It’s not good for my reputation.”

He laughed even louder. “I’d have thought it was a bit late for worrying about that.”

“Ooh,” she said furiously. “Don’t make me shoot you, Johnny!”

*

“That Rumpo,” said Judge Burke darkly, as he took a seat in the sheriff’s quarters. “He’s behind everything in this town. You’ve jist got to catch him at it!”

Colonel Sam Houston, a local cattle farmer, also present, sniggered.

Burke glared at him out of bright blue eyes that missed nothing. “He’ll stop at nothing. He’d shoot his own grandmother.”

“I heard he did,” put in the Doc, a shorter, dark-haired man with a nervous air about him. “And the rest of his folks, come to that.”

The judge said, “No!” and then sucked in his breath and shook his head. 

“And don’t fergit the cattle rustlin’,” put in Houston. “Lost any number of fine hides jist two nights back.”

Judge Burke leant forward. “So, if you could prove it was him, then we’d have him.”

“They say he killed the sheriff,” added the Doc. “Shot him down in cold blood. Poor old Earp.”

The Brigadier, now furnished with an office, backroom and cell and a new set of clothes, less likely to mark him out as not being in any way a US Peace Marshal, couldn’t help but give him a suspicious look. He still had the feeling that he was part of some gigantic joke, although that was equally as improbable. He coughed. “Sheriff… _Earp_?”

“Yeah,” said the Judge. “Old Albert Earp who never so much harmed a fly, ‘cept for when he shot old Nan Tucket by mistake thinking she was Billy the Kid.”

He had to swallow this. “Albert Earp. I see. So, no witnesses, then?”

“Hark at him,” the Judge said with a grin, elbowing Houston. “You can tell he’s a proper Marshal, can’t you, using all them words like that? No, there ain’t no witnesses. No one’s mental or suicidal enough to testify against Rumpo.”

He nodded. “Where does he hide out, then? Do we have any idea?”

“He don’t hide,” said Houston. “Not rightly, not hide as such. He runs the saloon over there – Rumpo's Place. Well, Belle Armitage runs it, but he’s always there.”

The Judge stuck his nose in the air. “Says he’s an upright citizen, goin’ about his lawful business, if ever you did.”

“In that case,” said the Brigadier, “perhaps I should meet him?”

*

“He’s ruinin’ my town,” said the judge, leading the way into the saloon. “There hadn’t bin’ so much as a shootin’ here, not since that business with Jessie James and that was years ago.”

The Brigadier turned, the feeling that none of this could be real creeping over him again. “I beg your pardon? Did you say Jesse James?”

“I always said you were hard on that Jessie,” said the Doc. “A nice girl, that’s what she was.”

He waved his hands impatiently. “Oh, well, let’s not go into ancient history again. The problem’s not Jessie, God rest her soul, but that rascal of a Rumpo Kid!”

Colonel Houston said, “Yeah. You can get a drink in Stodge City these days, but it’s a small price to pay when half your cattle goes missin’ every other night.”

“Sam,” scolded the Judge. “You was always very supportive of my dry policy. Yes, sir,” he added, turning to the Brigadier, “Stodge was famous for it, you know, till he turned up. Best ginger beer in the West.”

The Doc nodded. “The sarsaparilla wasn’t bad, neither.”

“You were running a _teetotal_ town out here?”

He said, “Well, apart from one or two bottles of whiskey, kept for purely medicinal purposes, of course.”

“Is this a joke?” the Brigadier demanded. “If this is some sort of set-up, I’m not getting involved.”

The doc looked worried. “What’s he mean? A set-up? We’re on your side, Marshal!”

“And it’s certainly not a joke,” said the Judge with dignity. “I told you. He shot poor ole Albert Earp and four of the bank cashiers -” He stopped, glancing up at the bank as they passed. “Ooh, no, _five_ of the bank cashiers. He’s got to be stopped.”

“I’ll make up my mind after I’ve met him.”

*

The Doctor was still slightly bored, since there wasn’t much he could do about the TARDIS console. Once he’d settled himself in his rooms, he’d hidden it in a nearby barn, but now it was evening and he emerged into the saloon, thinking he could find out one or two things. He thought that he might be able to talk to their villain and ensure that he didn’t suspect him.

As it turned out, there was a brief lull in the cabaret, so he took the stage with some conjuring tricks. It seemed only polite, if his hostess was short on entertainment.

*

Annie Oakley, emerging from her room in a pink and feathery diamante dancing girl’s outfit, complete with feather boa, stopped and widened her blue eyes in annoyance to see that someone else had stolen her planned cabaret spot.

She descended the staircase, hardly noticed, except by Marshall, who ran into her on his way up and put his hands over his eyes in alarm. “Miss Oakley! You’re not properly dressed!”

“Yes, I am,” she said and smiled to herself. She pulled his hands away from his face and said, “You’re sweet, you know that?”

He reddened violently. “I don’t think you ought to go down there like that, Miss Oakley. You don’t know what men are like!”

“Really?” she countered with trusting innocence, even though the men’s usual reaction was exactly what she had been counting on. “Well, I expect you’re right - and we’ve both had a long journey. You go on up to your room and I’ll go straight back to mine, right after I’ve gotten myself a cup of cocoa – to calm my nerves after that fight with those Indians.”

He looked relieved. “Oh, right. That’s all right, then. Maybe I’ll see you in the morning? Goodnight, Miss Oakley.”

She shook her head and continued down into the bar.

*

“I heard,” said Sam Houston, “that they got dancin’ girls there these days.”

Burke glared at him. “Shockin’. It’s got to be stopped!”

“Do you think,” asked the doctor tentatively, “that we might be in danger of seeing such sights?”

The Brigadier paid them no heed. He was beginning to doubt anything the three of them told him and he was contemplating whether or not there was anything he could do to the Doctor for landing him in the middle of this.

He marched inside and stopped. The Doctor was in the middle of producing flowers from out of cowboy’s hat with a flourish, taking absolutely no heed of a crowd that even he could see was growing hostile and he’d been here all of two seconds.

There was little else for it, so he crossed to the bar, where Burke bought him a drink of ginger beer.

“Someone’s gotta have principles,” he said, passing it over, taking a brandy for himself. He caught his look. “Medicinal purposes,” he reminded him. “And a sore trial it is to me, too.”

The Brigadier could still hear the Doctor’s voice. He seemed to have moved on to card tricks. “Pick a card, any card you like -.”

He began to hope that Rumpo was as bad as they made him out to be, because getting shot was suddenly sounding a lot more appealing than it had when they arrived.

*

“Belle,” said someone, arriving at the Brigadier’s elbow. “Who’s that fool? Where are the girls?”

She smiled wryly. “They’ve walked out on us. Say if we prefer that sort of thing to real, quality entertainment, they’ll go on somewhere else.”

“I’ll put a stop to him,” he growled. “Card tricks! What does he think this is?”

The Brigadier got to his feet, since, tempting as it might seem at this particular moment in time, he wasn’t about to let anyone shoot the Doctor. However, he was too late. Rumpo raised his gun and fired at the performer, shooting the card right out of his hand.

*

“You’re ruined my trick,” said the Doctor, turning without flinching. “Oh, hello again, Mr Rumpo.”

“Hey.”

He beamed at him. “I’m amazed you tried that sort of thing with your new marshal standing right there beside you.”

*

“You,” said Rumpo, looking the Brigadier up and down. He nodded slightly and gave him an apparently sincere smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Marshal. Hope you haven’t been listening to the tales some people round here tell about me.”

“So they’re not true, then?”

He coughed and grinned. “Well, no. I’m a fine, upstanding citizen of the town. Ain’t that right, Belle?”

“Oh, that’s right, Rumpo.”

“See? I would’ve arrived earlier, but I’ve been so busy bein’ kind to orphans I just lost track of the time.”

Judge Burke narrowed his eyes and all but hissed. “Orphans! The only thing you have to do with orphans is makin’ them that way in the first place!”

“Now, Burke don’t you go sayin’ such things about me in front of the Marshal. He’ll get the wrong idea.”

Belle smiled. “That was some pretty fancy shootin’, Rumpo. Bet even you couldn’t do better, Marshal. Could you?”

*

He busied himself blaming the Doctor for this as well. He contemplated shrugging and walking out and leaving them all to it, but it suddenly seemed an opportunity to at least worry the Doctor. It probably wouldn’t, knowing him, but he could try.

“Hold up a card again, Doctor,” he ordered.

His scientific adviser merely raised his eyebrows. He might have been biting back a smile, but it was hard to tell. “Any card in particular? Pick a card, Brig – er - Marshal.”

“Ace of Diamonds,” he said.

The Doctor held out the card with deliberate nonchalance.

He could miss, of course. Here he was in a wild west saloon, playing ridiculous games, when there was bound to be trouble waiting back at home and it was all the fault of the man he was aiming at.

The Brigadier fired.

***

# _The Gunfighters_ : People kept giving him guns. He wished they wouldn't.


	3. Infamy, Infamy...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plots and double plots... The Brigadier starts enforcing the law and the Doctor considers a life of crime.

_Julius Caesar: "Infamy, infamy - they've_ all _got it in for me!"_ (Carry On Cleo).

***

“Drat,” said Rumpo to Belle. “He _can_ shoot.”

Belle said, “See, you shouldn’t have killed Earp. He’d never have been able to hit you, not unless he was aimin’ at somethin’ else.”

“I’m ready for a challenge,” he said, folding his arms. “Trust me; I’ll make them think twice before they send for another fool Marshal.”

“Men,” said the hotel’s proprietress, rolling her eyes. “Play your games, but don’t come cryin’ to me when you’ve been shot dead and buried on Boot Hill.”

*

“That was a perfectly good pack of cards,” complained the Doctor, surveying the ace of diamonds that now had a hole in the centre and an eight of clubs that was singed at the edges. “I shall expect you to replace it when we get back.”

The Brigadier glared. “Be grateful, Doctor. The way I’m feeling right now you’re lucky I didn’t put a hole through _you_.”

“I don’t know,” he retorted, “half a day in the Wild West and this is the way you start to behave? Anyway, go away. I told Rumpo I’d never met you before.”

The Brigadier folded his arms. “One last thing, though. This isn’t the American West. It’s a dratted cliché.”

He paused. “Really? It was exactly like this last time I was here.”#

“I don’t know what you’ve done, Doctor, or where we are, or how any of this is happening. I’m beginning to think maybe your experiment blew up and I’ve had a knock to the head.”

He grinned. “It could be, but that doesn’t explain why I’m here as well. I assure you, my dear chap, that I’m no hallucination of yours.”

“No, I suppose not.”

“Now, will you please go away? It’s not healthy to be seen hob-nobbing with a US Marshal around here.”

He replaced his gun in his holster. “Thank you, Doctor. I shall see you in the morning if no one’s put a bullet through either of us in the meantime.”

The Doctor watched him go and shook his head. Sometimes he didn’t know how Lethbridge-Stewart could live with himself, continually wandering around with such a pedestrian mind.

*

“Mr Stewart!”

He turned, on his way out, to find that Annie had followed him. “Miss Oakley.”

“Your friend shouldn’t draw attention to himself like that,” she said. 

He looked back at her, noting that this time she was in earnest. When they’d met earlier, he’d had the distinct feeling that she was laughing at all three of the men she’d been landed with. Although, that might be due to nothing more to the uncanny resemblance -. “I’m afraid it would be a waste of breath to tell him that. Besides, he can look after himself.”

“But you don’t understand,” she continued, putting a hand on his arm. “I don’t rightly know how it can be, but he’s – he -.”

He frowned slightly. “Yes?”

“Well, don’t ask me how I know, please, but he looks _exactly_ like the sheriff. The late sheriff, I mean.”

The Brigadier took this in slowly. “You’re telling me that the Doctor looks like the sheriff Rumpo’s supposed to have killed? Albert Earp?”

“Uh huh.” She nodded, the feathers on her head bobbing with the movement. (And what was she wearing? He’d thought even in the Wild West, skirts were the norm for respectable women). “And he was standing up there, letting _everyone_ see.”

He understood only too well. “I _should_ have shot him. Does he know?”

“Well, I told him I thought he was -.” She stopped again and coloured. “No, I suppose he doesn’t.”

The Brigadier said, “Well, it’s good of you to inform me. I’ll let him know in the morning. I’d imagine he’s done his worst for one day.”

“I’ll try and keep an eye on him,” she promised, “but I think I might be a bit busy these next few days.”

He raised an eyebrow, amused. “You’ll protect him?”

“Oh,” she said. “No, of course not. I said I’d keep an eye out. People don’t tend to watch what they say in front of a mere slip of a girl, you know. What else could I have meant?”

“Indeed,” he said, but he had a definite feeling that this resemblance went deeper than mere appearances and he didn’t believe her for an instant. 

She sighed. “I’d better go back inside. I think I might as well do what I promised Marshall and go to my room. I wonder if they really do cocoa?”

“Well, they still do ginger beer,” he said bitterly. “That much I do know.”

Annie Oakley laughed and slipped away from him, back into Rumpo's Place.

*

It was a sunny morning in Stodge City. The Brigadier had been hoping to wake and find it was all a dream, but unfortunately this was not the case.

What was more, he had a visitor.

*

Marshall P Knutt sat down at the sheriff’s desk, opposite him and then coughed and got to his feet before colouring and sitting back down again.

“Did you want something?”

He said, “No, not really. Just thought I’d come and see how you were getting on.”

“That’s very considerate of you,” returned the Brigadier. “And you?”

He sighed. “Well, that’s it. I’ve taken a look at the drainage systems round here and, let me tell you, it’s not good.”

“It’s not?”

“No, and that Rumpo fellow, he told me to stop poking around the drains or he’d stuff me down one head first. Which wasn’t very nice of him.”

He said, “Well, once I’ve dealt with Rumpo, you can go about your business unmolested.”

“I was wondering if I should do something, though,” he said, all in earnest. “Do you want a sort of deputy sheriff or something?”

“Can you shoot?”

“No.”

He paused, “And have you had any experience of law enforcement?”

“Well, no, but I’ve had to deal with whole nests of vermin, so -”

He leant forward with a smile. “I appreciate the offer, Mr Knutt, but for the moment, I think you’ll be better off with your drains.”

“Oh,” he said and sagged. “Right. Well, if you change your mind -- I suppose I’ll go now, then.”

He’d never seen anyone look quite so crestfallen at having his life saved.

* 

The Doctor headed off to the barn to start work on repairing the TARDIS, only to run into Lethbridge-Stewart.

“Doctor,” he greeted him. “I need to talk to you.”

He glared. “I told you, I don’t know you. Will you please remember that? If you must speak to me, go round the other way and meet me in that building over there and try to make sure nobody sees you, if you can manage that.”

“Whatever you say, Doctor,” returned the Brigadier dryly.

*

“I look like the old sheriff?”

He nodded. “Apparently. So watch your step, Doctor. Rumpo will suspect you.”

“Suspect me of what? Clearly, I’m not a sheriff or a Marshal and I don’t even own a gun. He didn’t seem to be at all unfriendly yesterday – well, aside from the incident with the cards. Quite the opposite until then.”

He said, “Doctor, surely that’s a warning in itself. He was trying to be pleasant when I met him and I wouldn’t trust him for an instant. He thinks I have government backing and he’s only looking for a way to be rid of me without bringing any more officers down here.”

“I didn’t say I’d _trust_ him,” said the Doctor. “Brigadier, will you please go about your business and leave me to get on with seeing if I can get us home again? I thought that was what you wanted.”

He said, “Very well.”

“One moment, though.” The Doctor looked up. “Miss Oakley told you about this?”

He frowned. “Yes. Why? Does that matter?”

“No, but it’s very interesting.” He beamed at him. “Now, do run along, there’s a good fellow. I’m busy.”

*

“Marshal!”

He arrived back at the sheriff’s office, to find Judge Burke waiting for him. “Good morning, sir.”

“No, it’s not,” snapped the shorter man. “I don’t know how you have the nerve to stand there sayin’ it is, neither. We sent for you to sort out that Rumpo, not engage in fancy shootin’ with him. Now, if you’d shot _him_ , that would’ve bin all right.”

He glanced at the wall. “I can’t march into a bar and start shooting people out of hand.”

“Why not? Everyone else does,” said Burke, sounding sulky. “Oh, all right. I know, I know. We need some hard evidence.”

He nodded. “We do. And it strikes me that I know how we might find some.”

“Oh, now, well, that’s good news,” the Mayor said, losing his bad temper. “I’m sorry, Marshal, it’s jist someone went out first thing this mornin’ and dang me if they haven’t ridden over Mother Smith’s place and she does the washin’ for half the town. Sheets and shifts and all them sort of things all trampled into the dirt. And if that wasn’t enough, there’s another poor feller dead in the street.”

*

The Brigadier headed outside at a run, to find the local doctor sitting up and pushing Josh the undertaker away. 

“Get off! Look, I’m not dead. I’m sitting up and talking, aren’t I? That should have given you a clue.”

Josh put his tape measure away. with a disgruntled snap “You shouldn’t lie there like that, gettin’ a man’s hopes up!”

“What happened to you?”

He sighed. “Someone’s been playing with the manhole covers round here. Tripped right over that one lying about over there.”

“You thick-headed noodle,” said the mayor, slapping his friend. “You better watch where you’re walkin’, Doc. The number of shootin’s round here, we can’t be doin’ without a sawbones.”

The Brigadier looked thoughtful and then peered down the open manhole. “Marshall? Are you down there? Knutt?”

The mayor and doctor exchanged an alarmed glance.

“He’s lost it,” hissed Burke in the loudest whisper the Brigadier had heard. “Hear him, he’s talkin’ to himself and starin’ down the drains! The strain of dealin’ with Rumpo’s got to him already. What are we gonna do?”

He ignored them. “Marshall! I think I might be able to use your help, after all.”

A few yards away, another manhole cover was thrown aside and Marshall P. Knutt emerged, grinning widely. “Right you are, Marshal. I say, it sounds funny to say that. Almost like I’m talking to myself. I think I’ll call you Mr Stewart, if you don’t mind.”

The doctor and mayor looked at each other again.

“You know,” said Burke, “I don’t think I understand any of this, but if they get rid of that horrible man, I don’t care.”

*

“Right,” said Marshall, following with a frown. “So you don’t want me to be deputy sheriff?”

He smiled. “I think your sanitary talents would be wasted, don’t you? But you’re staying at Belle’s Place. Now, what we need is some hard evidence against Rumpo and then I can arrest the fellow. You’re right on the spot and no one’s got any reason to suspect you. If anything odd happens, you let me know. That’s all. No heroics, mind.”

“No, I don’t think I’m up to heroics,” he said. “I don’t want that Rumpo shooting at me. But what about your friend. Can’t he-?”

He paused. “He’s drawn too much attention to himself. Besides, he’s rather busy. And currently, he’s not my friend, or so he says.”

“Oh, right. Well, don’t worry, Mr Stewart. You can count on me!”

The Brigadier said, “Thank you, Knutt. I’m sure I can.” And pondered once more on the unreality of the situation.

*

“Hey, Knutt! Have you seen that Doctor about anywhere?”

He was halfway up the stairs to his rooms and jumped violently and guiltily before turning. “Rumpo!”

“Yeah, it’s me. Have you seen him?”

He said, “No. Why d’you want him?”

“I’ve got something to tell him,” he said. “He can tell that Marshal if he wants.”

The Doctor entered the bar below. “Were you talking about me?” he asked. Somehow, he seemed to have avoided getting any of the all-pervading dust on his velvet jacket.

He grinned. “That’s right. Now, you might want to tell your friend that I’ve heard a rumour there's gonna be some cattle rustlin’ goin’ on tonight. Me and some of the boys are heading up to the ranch to catch them at it. If the US Marshal wants to join us in roundin’ them up, we’d be honoured.”

“I’ve told you,” said the Doctor. “He’s nothing to do with me. Go and tell him yourself.”

Rumpo grinned. “Yeah that’s right. You did. Fancy me forgettin’ like that. Well, then, how about you and the plumber here come and give us a hand? We heard there’d be a reward – no point in that bein’ wasted on the government, eh? What d’you say?”

“Just give me a time,” said the Doctor. “I wouldn’t turn down an offer like that.”

The cowboy tipped his black hat to him. “That’s what I like to hear. We’ll be glad to count you as one of us. I’ll send a couple of my men to show you the way.”

Rumpo walked back out again. Marshall ran down the stairs.

“What did you think of that?” queried the Doctor. “What’s he up to, I wonder?”

“Up to?”

“Well, it was a rather obvious trap.”

The young man opened and shut his mouth several times. “We’d better tell the Marshal at once!”

“Yes, I suppose we should,” said the Doctor, “but that would be rather dull, wouldn’t it? I don’t expect we’d find anything out of order if we did that – and somebody needs to dig up some evidence with which to hang that criminal.”

“Oh. I see. Isn’t it going to be a bit dangerous, though?”

He smiled at him. “Probably. You don’t have to come, but I don’t see why the Br- Marshal should have all the fun, do you?”

“I’m not sure I should trust you, either,” said Marshall frowning.

He said, “True, but I think this may be the fastest way to deal with Rumpo.”

“You mean if he tries to kill us, we’ll know he’s up to no good?” The sanitation engineer’s voice lifted a pitch, veering towards hysteria.

The Doctor patted him on the shoulder. “Exactly. But remember, we’re walking into this with our eyes open and that’s one thing he doesn’t know.”

“I don’t find that very comforting,” said Marshall, following him out.

*

Behind them, Annie Oakley emerged onto the balcony with a furrowed brow. “I don’t think I like the sound of _that_ …”

 

***

# _The Gunfighters_ : There was a ballad with many verses. Steven hoped the piano knew it.


	4. You'd Make Some Man A Good Husband...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Annie reveals her hand and the Brigadier makes an arrest. Shame it's the Doctor... Elsewhere, the plot thickens. Or something.

_Marshall (to Annie): "You know, you’d make some man a good husband one day."_ (Carry on Cowboy)

***

After the brief excitement of the doctor (not _the_ Doctor) being alive and not dead, and the recovery of Ma Smith’s lost laundry, the day had been ominously quiet. Judge Burke had pronounced it to be so several times with an increasing sense of doom and then cheerfully departed for his bed an hour ago.

There was a tapping at the door.

The Brigadier opened it up to find Annie Oakley outside. When he’d first seen her, she’d been dressed in a long white and yellow dress and matching hat, secondly in the pink, feathery outfit of a dancing girl. This time she was wearing a cowboy’s outfit – jeans, shirt, hat and neckerchief, hair tied back – and the resemblance was more marked than ever. Quite frankly, it was more disturbing than anything else in this whole improbable town.

“Mr Stewart,” she said, entering swiftly and pushing the door to behind her. “I was heading off after Marshall and then I thought I’d better come and warn you because your friend’s in trouble right along with him. In fact, I sort of think he landed them both right in it.”

_The Doctor, causing trouble? How unusual._

He smiled. “And you were charging to the rescue?”

“Oh, you may laugh, but women aren’t as useless as men always seem to think,” she said, lifting her chin stubbornly. “Rumpo told them to tell you someone was going to be out cattle rustling round Colonel Houston’s ranch, but they went off themselves instead and I just _know_ there’s going to be trouble.”

He said, “Right, lead the way, Miss Oakley.”

“You’re not going to tell me to stay behind and mind my knitting?”

He bit back amusement. “No. I imagine it would be a waste of breath. Wouldn’t it?”

“Yes,” she agreed, but she gave him a puzzled look. “Oh, and, please don’t tell Marshall if it can be avoided. I’ll keep my face covered.”

He raised an eyebrow in query.

“Men don’t like being rescued by me,” she sighed. “That’s one thing I have learnt. Now, come on – we need to hurry!”

He agreed.

*

“It’s quiet,” whispered Marshall to the Doctor. “I don’t like it. Where did those two men go? Oh. What’s that noise?”

The Doctor said, “If you could keep quiet for two minutes together, I might be able to tell.”

They were interrupted by shouts and a crowd of men – Sam Houston and others they didn’t know. One thing was clear: they were angry and not about to listen to reason.

*

“This is all your fault!” squeaked Marshall as they tied his hands behind his back and tightened the noose around his neck.

The Doctor, in a similar position, said, “Stop this! It must be perfectly obvious to you good people that we’re not cattle rustlers!”

“Oh, yeah?” said Sam Houston. “Then what was you doin’ out here in the middle of the night?”

He said, “Trying to catch some real cattle rustlers.”

“A likely story!”

Marshall shut his eyes. “Doctor, they’re going to kill us!”

He was busy trying to get the knots untied behind his back. It was a trick he was very good at, but he was hampered by the angry men crowding round them. One of them, spotting his struggles, shoving a gun into his ribs.

“You keep still, you dirty thief. You’re goin’ to pay for this.”

And the worst thing was, they were going to hang the unfortunate young man first. He had better do something, but he was stuck for once.

*

As they threw the other end of the rope over a tree branch and pulled while Marshall whimpered, two shots rang out. The rope snapped in half and a horse and rider galloped into the clearing, stopping to pull Marshall up and racing off into the night.

That was a relief, thought the Doctor, as people yelled and shouted and one or two tried shooting uselessly after the mystery cowboy. However, it still left him in an awkward position.

It was at that point that another rider arrived.

*

“What’s going on here?” bellowed the Brigadier, drawing everyone’s attention; the shouts of the mob dying away into half-hearted mutterings.

Colonel Houston turned. “Marshal, he’s a cattle rustler – found him out here lurkin' about, him and another fellow. But he’s run off and left this one -”

“Really?” he said, facing the Doctor, who was still firmly tied. They’d got as far as putting the noose around his neck. “Terrible. However, I can’t have people taking the law into their own hands like this. _I’ll_ deal with him.”

Houston said, “Bullets are too good for his sort.”

“Look,” said the Doctor, getting himself free at last and lifting the noose off, “I’m hardly anyone's idea of a cattle rustler. I’m sure if you go and count your herds you’ll find that none of them are missing.”

Houston glared.

“Shut up,” barked the Brigadier at the Doctor. “I’ll listen to your story in the morning – if you have one. For now, you’re under arrest.”

The Doctor paused. “What?”

“Yeah,” said someone. “You can’t come and spoil a lynch party like that. It’s not in the spirit of the thing.”

Stodge City’s new Marshal said, “I really don’t care. We’re going to do this by the book. He’s under arrest. Now, get off home, back to your beds before I have to lock up the whole lot of you.”

*

“You can drop this ridiculous act now,” said the Doctor. Rumpo had leant him and Marshall a horse for this excursion and he rode it now back to the town, alongside the Brigadier. “You’re not seriously going to arrest me, are you?”

He said, “Either that or shoot you.”

“This is very childish, you know,” he complained. “You haven’t got the right to go round arresting me. Anyway, I thought we’d known each other too long for such-”

He raised both eyebrows. “I thought I was a US Marshal and I only met you the other day. And I _am_ serious. Either I arrest you now, or I will have to shoot you.”

The Doctor took one look at his face and fell silent for the moment at least, but he really was regretting dragging Lethbridge-Stewart to the Wild West, however accidentally. It seemed to be bringing out the worst in him. He’d seen it before. #

"Not fatally, obviously," added the Brigadier. It didn't help, because it sounded as though he might actually mean it.

The Doctor sulked.

*

The Doctor folded his arms and watched from within as the Brigadier locked him in the cell. “You could at least have given me the one with the window.”

As Lethbridge-Stewart prepared, to leave the office and go on through to his quarters, the Doctor said, “I’d thought better of you!”

“Did you?” said the Brigadier, turning. “It doesn’t sound like it, Doctor.” He smiled to himself.

He gripped the bars and glared back. “Oh, I’m sure it’s all very amusing to you.”

“No, it isn’t,” he said, lowering his tone. “You nearly got yourself and Marshall killed out there. Rumpo’s shown his hand, but we still can’t get him for it. So you can stay there, safely out of his way until morning at least.”

The Doctor sighed. “I see. It’s still a little extreme -.”

“You said it wasn’t wise to be my friend,” said the Brigadier levelly. “You were right. Arresting you might give Rumpo pause for thought at least.”

The Doctor rubbed his chin with his hand. “Oh. And what about young Knutt?”

“I should imagine he’ll be safe enough,” said his friend, a humorous look back in his hazel eyes. “He’s got someone looking out for him.”

The Doctor coughed. “I suppose it all makes sense, then. Lock me up, if you must.”

“I have,” he pointed out. Then he paused and handed him the key. “I suggest you stay there.”

He took it and pocketed it, smiling again. “Oh, very well, if you insist. At least I should get more peace and quiet in here than in that dreadful hotel.”

*

In the morning, the Brigadier had oversaw a meeting between the mayor, Colonel Houston and the Doctor in which Houston owned that he was missing no cattle and Judge Burke scolded him for being an idiot, duped by Rumpo. Houston then apologised to the Doctor, who paused for a moment between gracefully accepting it and giving a lecture on lynch mobs and crowd mentality. He settled for a dignified but icy, “Thank you, Colonel. Very magnanimous of you.”

After which, the Doctor was out of the cell, which, all told, was something of a relief, and the Brigadier went in search of Annie.

*

“Miss Oakley,” he said, finding her outside the saloon, listening to Marshall’s description of his adventures and his mysteriously perfumed rescuer with a twinkle in her blue eyes. She was back in a long dress, looking the picture of innocence.

She glanced across. “Why, Mr Stewart. Good morning. Marshall’s just been telling me about the _terrible_ things that happened last night. Shocking, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” he agreed. “I’m sorry that I didn’t get there earlier, Knutt. I did arrive in time to recover the Doctor at least. Miss Oakley, if I might have a quick word?”

Marshall gave him an alarmed look, but she merely nodded and moved further away to his side.

“I wanted to thank you,” he said, straight-faced. “I am eternally in your debt.”

She nodded. “As long as your friend is safe.”

“Yes, of course, that, too.”

Annie gave him a curious look. “Isn’t that what you meant?”

“Yes,” he said, “but thanks to you, I also had the opportunity arrest the Doctor for being a cattle rustler. Let’s just say I found that not entirely unsatisfactory.”

She stared ahead. “I’m sure that’s not a proper attitude for a US Marshal.”

“No.”

Annie smiled. “But then you’re not a proper US Marshal, are you?”

“I should think I’m as much a US Marshal as you’re merely an innocent traveller in these parts.”

She coloured. “Whatever do you mean?”

He merely tipped his hat to her and walked away.

Marshall ran up to join her instantly. “What was that about?”

“Nothing,” she said. But she frowned. She was beginning to wonder how she was going to deal with Mr Stewart and it troubled her.

*

The Brigadier returned to his office to find a note from the Doctor, wanting to see him. He thought he’d better go. It might be that he’d worked out how to get them out of this, if he was lucky. If he was unlucky, he wanted to complain about being arrested.

It turned out to be neither.

*

“You said this place was nothing but a cliché,” the Doctor began, without greeting or preamble. “What did you mean by that?”

He paused. “Do I really need to explain? Shoot-outs and outlaws and all the rest of it, even Indians attacking a stage-coach. Then there’s all these co-incidences – Marshall who’s not a Marshal, you looking like the sheriff, Miss Oakley looking like – well, never mind. And Stodge City? Albert Earp? Some girl called Jessie James? This whole thing feels like one oversized practical joke.”

“Hmm,” said the Doctor grimly. “I’m not sure whether I can agree yet, since it’s pretty much as I remember from my last visit## but I’ve seen that doctor of theirs now and you may be right. Oversized practical joke – it’s exactly his sort of thing!”

He frowned. “I don’t think I follow you.”

“No, I don’t suppose you do. The Monk, Brigadier. An incorrigible idiot who thinks he can meddle with history, causing untold trouble and playing with the web of time, when he clearly has no idea of the potential consequences -”

The Brigadier folded his arms. “I’m afraid you’ve still lost me, Doctor.”

“Much as I hate to admit it, he’s one of my own people,” he said. “An irresponsible jester of a Time Lord. Of course, when I confronted him a moment ago, he denied it, but then he would. But I can’t be sure. Something doesn’t feel right.”

Lethbridge-Stewart paused. “You think there’s another Time Lord here? Good grief. Who?”

“That doctor who hangs around with Burke,” he said. “He hasn’t even changed his face.”

The Brigadier thought about this. “I see. Really? Are you sure?”

“No. That’s the trouble.”

He considered it. “How could he have turned events here into clichés? That isn’t possible.”

“The whole universe is made up of things _you_ don’t think are possible,” he retorted, with an edge of bitterness. “I don’t know. It is unlikely. He usually tries making ‘improvements’ to established history.”

The Brigadier said, “We’ve already encountered two uncanny likenesses here. Could this be another?”

“As I said, that’s the trouble. But I shall find out.”

He paused. “So what do you want me to do?”

“Keep an eye on him. Let me know if you see him sneaking around anywhere – anything that might be his TARDIS.”

He raised his eyebrows. “He has a machine like yours?”

“Oh, yes,” said the Doctor. “Better, in fact. So he claims. Arrogant piffle, of course.”

“What will it look like?”

He scratched the back of his neck. “Anything at all. Anything big enough to get inside, that is.”

“Very helpful,” said the Brigadier. “All right, I’ll do my best, Doctor, but he seems an unlikely villain.”

He said grimly, “Oh, he _is_. That’s exactly right.”

*

The Doctor coughed, causing the Brigadier to turn back as he reached for the barn door. “Incidentally, who is it Miss Oakley reminds you of?”

“That, Doctor, is none of your business.”

*

That evening, Annie Oakley dressed in her dancing girl’s outfit again, a set expression on her pretty face. This time, she was not about to be stopped by anyone. She was going down into the saloon and give her performance - and she would get her man.

*

Her song succeeded in its intention: she had Rumpo’s attention all right – and Belle’s.

“Minx!” muttered Belle through gritted teeth, watching the younger girl all over _her_ man. “I knew it; I _knew_ she was no good.”

*

It had been another quiet day in Stodge City but it was going to be an explosive night...

 

***

 

# _The Gunfighters_ : Dodo fell victim to every cliché in the Old West. Unlike the Brigadier, she enjoyed it.

## _The Gunfighters_ : Doc Holliday extracted his tooth and gave him a gun. What more could he ask for?


	5. Men!  They're Only Good For One Thing...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The unlikeliest ‘Indian’ in this or any other reality finally makes an appearance, Annie bags her man, but misses her mark, Rumpo wants to see the Brigadier carried out in a coffin and Belle’s flaming mad. This can’t be good…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NB: Some (mildly) risque humour (possibly) and some comic violence in this & the following chapter.
> 
> The non-PCness of Big Heap and Little Heap is from the source material, where it's clearly a parody of Westerns, & I hope can be seen in the same spirit here. (Especially since Big Heap is Terribly British in the film.)

_Flo: “Men! They’re only good for one thing – and they wouldn’t be much good at that without us.”_ (Carry on Cabby)

***

The Doctor had gone in search of the _other_ doctor who might be the Monk, which was keeping him busy enough to allow the Brigadier to engage in practising with the sheriff’s firearms (to the dismay of Judge Burke). 

Otherwise, the Doctor was going to notice he still had his revolver and have a word about anachronisms that would doubtless be long and insulting. 

In addition, the mayor was in the middle of telling him what he ought to do, so interrupting him with shooting practice the man couldn’t really complain about seemed a good idea. Burke jumped violently and clapped his hands to his ears with every pistol shot.

“Look, you’ve established you can hit the wall,” he yelled eventually. “Stop it before you bring every idiot with a gun down on us.”

He paused, although he knew the man had a point and he felt happy he’d got the hang of the antiquated weapons now. “Are you afraid?”

“Afraid? Of course, I’m afraid. I’m a lifelong coward, man and boy. That’s why I called in a Marshal to do the shootin’. Don’t ask stupid, tom-fool questions.”

*

Two ‘Indians’ were standing in a small clearing, away from the settlement, discussing matters of importance in a whisper.

“It’s no good,” said Big Heap, a tiny man in round wire-rimmed glasses, to his giant of a son. “I simply _must_ have firewater. That nice Rumpo fellow promised me some, but he hasn’t brought any more, so I shall have to go and get it.”

“Father,” said Little Heap slowly. “Is this wise? Me no think so.”

He giggled slightly. “Well, it’s awfully good of you, but I’ve made my mind up and the spirit of my fathers is with me. Nothing will stop me!”

“Then Little Heap take Big Heap into town. White men two-faced. Not to be trusted!”

“Well, we _all_ know that. I do wish you wouldn’t fuss, son.”

*

“Oh, no, no!” protested Annie, who was currently draped in Rumpo’s arms in the back office of the Stodge City’s saloon.

He drew back with a frown, as she gently pushed him away. “But, Annie -?”

“I’m sorry, but I _can’t_. I’m saving myself, you see.”

“Saving yourself? No, I don't see!”

She nodded. “Uh huh. I’m saving myself for the man who shot the man who shot _my_ man.”

“You what?”

“The old sheriff here – Sheriff Earp – once shot someone very dear to me. And I swore to myself that I’d only give myself to the man who killed him. So I can’t. I’m sorry.”

Rumpo grinned widely. “Well, that’s me! _I_ shot Earp.”

“Oh,” she said breathlessly, lowering her eyelashes. “Oh, I _hoped_ it would be you.”

He renewed his attack.

“Oh, no, no,” she protested again, slipping out of his hold.

He paused. “What’s the problem?”

“Not here – not like this,” she said, flustered and pulling the pink feather boa closer about her. “Not in a measly back office. Come to my room at ten.”

He chuckled. “You betcha!”

“I’ll be waiting,” she promised and made her way upstairs to rig up the booby-trap with the rifle and get her handguns primed and ready. 

What she and Rumpo had in mind were two very different things and so he would find out when he knocked on her door.

That’d teach him to shoot her father.

*

“How you get firewater with no money?”

Big Heap chuckled again. He was now dressed in trousers and a check shirt with no headdress, ready to fit in. “You wait and see. It never fails.”

He got out of the cart and thanked Little Heap, who continued on his way. Then he gave a wide, gleeful smile and burst wildly into the saloon, waving a spade around wildly.

“Gold! Gold strike at Bear Creek!”

After that he only had to avoid the wild stampede of cowboys and then it was an all-you-can-drink happy hour at the saloon.

*

“Johnny,” said Belle, catching hold of him as he headed out of the office at five to ten. “Johnny, don’t!”

He turned. “What?”

“She’s no good, Johnny, I know it. She’s after something.”

“Yeah, and if you get out of the way, she’s gonna get it!”

Belle, sharp-shootin, sharp-talkin’, glamorous landlady of the saloon, put her hands up to his chest, fingering the collar of his best suit. “Johnny, _don’t_. Don’t turn our story into a burning tale of lust, jealousy and passion under a white hot desert sun. Don’t make it a saga of sex, vengeance and sudden death in the primitive west!”

“You turned delirious, Belle?” he said. “Let go of me.”

She glared at him, slapped him soundly, and flounced out. Johnny Rumpo was going to pay for this!

“ _Ow_ ,” he said, nursing his cheek. Then he shrugged philosophically and went on his way despite her protests.

*

Rumpo rubbed his hands together and headed for the stairs -

“Mr Rumpo,” said the Doctor, catching hold of him on his way down. “I don’t suppose you’ve seen anything odd about the place, have you? An extra wardrobe, for instance? Or a cabinet – anything of that sort?”

He stared at him. “Have you gone completely crazy? Why would I notice if there were? I don’t care about furniture and I’ve got an appointment at ten that I wouldn’t miss for all the wardrobes in the west. Not get out of my way, or I’ll have you lyin’ in your coffin instead of your bed!”

“Coffins!” said the Doctor, standing still. “Of _course_. He might try something like that. He did have a thing for sarcophagi. I’m off to the funeral parlour.”

Rumpo had to grin and drew his gun. “Want me to speed you on your way?”

“No, thank you,” he responded, exiting with dignity.

The outlaw of the Wild West laughed out loud as he went. The Doctor shook his head. He’d met trouble of _his_ sort before. #

*

Rumpo headed for the stairs once more and as he got halfway up, he took in the deserted nature of the bar-room. Then he glimpsed the figure sitting there, drinking his way through all the abandoned glasses. A man who could and probably would ruin him, if that darn-fool Marshal got his hands on him.

He stopped and shouted through the door to Annie. “Be right back! Don’t go away.”

Through the door, he heard her voice. “Don’t worry, I won’t.”

She was a sweet girl. Belle didn’t know what she was talkin’ about.

*

As he got to the bottom of the stairs, Charlie the barman returned.

“Some idiot said there was a gold strike at Bear Creek,” he said, brushing back his iron-grey hair, unusually dishevelled for the even Charlie. “Got a mile outta town before I remembered there ain’t no such place as Bear Creek.”

Rumpo nodded in the direction of the Indian. “Guess _which_ idiot.”

“Want me to shut him up permanently?” Charlie pulled out his gun and gave the happily oblivious Big Heap a cold, blue glance.

The cowboy nodded and then glimpsed Marshal Stewart and Judge Burke heading this way. “Not now – get him out the back and keep him there!”

*

“March in there, tell Rumpo you know his game and put the wind up him,” Judge Burke urged. “See what he does then!”

The Brigadier thought, if pushed, the man might well try to shoot him, but it was a suggestion that was not without some merit. The cowboy had a certain amount of cunning, but he might be panicked into rash action that would betray him. And he hardly had anything else to do this evening.

So, here he was, striding into the saloon. “Mr Rumpo.”

“Marshal,” he said, smiling widely at him, as last time, turning back as he attempted the ascent up the stairs yet again. “What a pleasure. What brings you here?”

Judge Burke was hovering behind the Brigadier, as was Doc. “He knows what you’re up to, Rumpo! You’ve bin rumbled and you should jist git out of town!”

“I like it here,” he said easily. “The Marshal here’s a fair man and he knows I ain’t done nothing wrong. Ain’t that right, Marshal?”

He faced him. “I know quite well that you were behind that cattle rustling stunt the other night. You had better watch your step, sir.”

“Prove it,” said Rumpo. “I’m a law-abidin’ citizen of Stodge City and you can’t touch me.”

He smiled slightly. “Really? Do you want to stake your life on that?”

“That’s not nice talk,” said the man, looking hurt, though he had hesitated. For a moment, something had scared the fearless Rumpo Kid. “I thought you was a civilised man, Marshal. Now, we’re closed, otherwise I’d get Charlie to fix you up a drink. You’d better get along home.”

*

“Phew,” Rumpo said, once he’d ushered them out. He set off up the stairs for the third time, his eagerness renewed.

It was then he heard the unwelcome sound of Big Heap’s laughter. He spun round, to see him race through the saloon, pursued too slowly by Charlie. The Indian Chief disappeared out through the door – and from the sounds of it – straight into the arms of the Marshal, Burke and the Doc.

“I’m finished,” said Rumpo. He ran down the steps. “Charlie, couldn’t you have kept a better watch on him?”

He said, “Want me to deal with the lot of them?”

“No, we’ll never hear the end of it if we shoot a US Marshal out in the open like that,” he returned. “I’ll sort this out, I promise. I’ve got a plan. Can you do something for me, though?”

He nodded. “Of course.”

“Go up there and apologise to Miss Oakley. Tell her I’ve been unavoidably detained, worse luck.”

*

They hurried off in their separate directions. Rumpo vanished into the night, but Charlie, after slicking back his hair, knocking and opening the door to Annie’s room, was met with a barrage of gunfire and flung back down the stairs and straight off this mortal coil.

*

Annie ran out after him and leaned over the balcony, clutching a gun in each hand. “Oh! I’m _terribly_ sorry – I thought you were someone else!”

*

“Who are you?” demanded the Brigadier of the bespectacled, skinny, drunken man who had stumbled out of the saloon and all but fallen over him.

“I’m Big Heap – Heap Big – something like that,” he managed, arms flailing as he fell into his arms. “I’m an Indian Chief – get your hands off me!”

The Brigadier looked at him again. “Really? In that case I’m arresting you for being drunk and disorderly – and for being an impostor. That’s the most unlikely story I’ve ever heard.”

“Ooh,” he said. “I say, you’re going to regret that. I am too a Chidian Inief. I shall set my forefathers on you!”

He looked down at him. “Oh, be quiet.”

“Well! What a _horrid_ fellow,” said Big Heap before passing out.

*

The Doctor crept into the funeral parlour. There wasn’t much light – torchlight and moonlight through the window, but it was enough to tell whether any coffin might really be a TARDIS in disguise.

He started looking the few coffins that were out there. Mercifully for him, all but one was empty, burials being hasty in the Old West.

Eventually, he registered that he was being watched. He turned slowly.

Josh the undertaker was standing there with his mouth open and tears in his eyes. “I’ve never seen anyone that keen before. Never in all my days. If you wanted me to take your measurements, you could’ve asked.”

*

The Brigadier marched Big Heap off and locked him securely in the cell. “Stay there and sleep it off,” he advised. In the morning, he could find out who the strange little man was.

*

Belle Armitage put her on her cloak and set off down the main street, still fuming.

Nobody treated her like that. She hadn’t got to be in her position by lettin’ some fool man behave in the way that Rumpo had. She was lovin’ and she was loyal, but if he’d turned his attentions elsewhere, then so would she.

And she knew exactly the man to make him pay.

*

“Right,” said Rumpo, gathering his forces together. “This is gettin’ dangerous. We’ve got to get Big Heap out of there and put a stop to that Marshal at the same time. If that idiot of an Injun starts on about what he knows, I’ll be finished. I’ll have to leave town and nobody – _nobody_ – runs the Rumpo Kid out of town.”

One of his men paused. “What you got in mind?”

“Let’s just say, I’m plannin’ a little surprise,” he grinned. “You lot, get round town and find me Little Heap. He won’t have let his father come in alone. Whatever happens, the result’s gonna look like it’s the work of some crazy Injun tryin’ to rescue his father. Tragic, but there you go. Comprenny?”

The rest of the cowboys dispersed.

“That little twerp’s ruined the whole show,” muttered Rumpo. “Belle’s mad, most likely Miss Oakley is, too. And now he’s gonna blab to the Marshal about who was behind the attack on the stagecoach. This town’s getting darn uncomfortable and it was just dandy before Burke sent for that dratted Marshal.”

Then he cheered up. It wasn’t gonna happen. By morning, they’d be burying what was left of the Marshal and, if he was lucky, those two troublesome Injuns along with him. After that, he’d deal with that snivelling weasel of a mayor and anyone else who thought they could make life difficult for him.

*

It should be noted that it’s a true fact that the best laid plans of mice and men aft gang a-gley, and this is no doubt due to both men and mice paying too little attention to what the women are about.##

The women of Stodge City were no exception to that rule.

***

# The Gunfighters: That Johnny Ringo. Johnny loved Kate and she Did Him Wrong. (Maybe it’s a case of déjà vu?)

##Ask the Three Blind Mice. They learnt this lesson the hard way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credits / disclaimers: Quite a few significant lines in this chapter are lifted directly from Talbot Rothwell’s script. 
> 
> The dodgy accents are still intentional.


	6. I Seem To Have Got A Little Plastered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shootin’s fine. But coping with three women and an unlikely ‘Indian’? Not the Brigadier’s cup of tea. Meanwhile, the Doctor pursues a possible solution (or yet another hilarious case of mistaken identity) and Rumpo’s out to kill the Brigadier by fair means or foul.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, warnings for some very mildly risque humour and comic violence.
> 
> Not quite as wholesale robbery as Ch 5, but, again, some lines are courtesy of Talbot Rothwell's script.

_Lady Ruff-Diamond (as the ceiling collapses): “Oh dear, I seem to have got a little plastered!”_ (Carry on Up the Khyber).

***

The Brigadier hung up his gun for the night and hoped for a little peace, although he had already gathered that the man who claimed to be an ‘Indian’ chief named Big Heap kept sitting up and yelling, giggling or talking nonsense before collapsing again at intervals, so it seemed doubtful.

Still, Judge Burke and the Doc the Doctor suspected of being a renegade Time Lord had gone. (The Brigadier prayed that this was not the case. One Time Lord was trouble enough and _he_ was on his side most of the time. theoretically, at any rate.)

It was then that someone rapped on the door. He paused, reached for the gun once more and went to answer it.

*

“You know, it’s uncanny,” Josh the undertaker said, as the Doctor allowed himself to be measured. “You don’t only _look_ like old Albert – you’ve got the same measurements. I don’t forget these things, you know.”

The Doctor waited patiently. “Fascinating. You haven’t seen anything odd around here, have you? Coffins you didn’t make yourself, or anything at all like a cupboard that you didn’t remember having around?”

“Are you saying there’s a rival undertaker here?” he demanded.

Why, wondered the Doctor, was nothing simple? _Humans. Always so parochial._

*

“Marshal,” said Belle Armitage, entering and pushing the door closed behind her. She pulled her hood down. “Are we alone?”

He coughed. “Well, aside from the drunken Indian, yes.”

“Good,” she said, removing the dark cloak. She was dressed in a long purple skirt and matching, low-cut blouse. “How about you and me have a little talk?”

*

Rumpo ran back into the saloon. “Charlie! Charlie?”

He stopped in shock to see the body of the bartender stretched out on the floor, three bullet wounds answering any question as to what had happened.

“Who did this?” said Rumpo. “Who killed Charlie?”

*

“Well, _really_!” said Belle, flushing pink with indignation. “That’s mighty unfriendly of you, Marshal.”

The Brigadier had his gun aimed at her. “You stay where you are and hand over your weapon. Did Rumpo send you or did you come to shoot me on your own account?”

“Men,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I thought I made it plain what _I_ had in mind. And if you’d only listened, I could’ve told you a whole lot of things you might’ve found interestin’.”

He raised an eyebrow. “If that was the case, why come armed?”

She glanced downward. “Habit, Marshal. It don’t pay to walk around here unarmed, or hadn’t you noticed?”

“Hand it over,” he ordered.

She did so and then gave a smirk. “And now you’ve got me where you want me, what’re you gonna do with me?”

*

“Right, that does it,” said Rumpo, a dark light in his eyes. “It’ll be that Marshal. I’m gonna make him pay!”

He glanced about him and frowned. Where was everybody?

“Belle?”

Nothing.

“Miss Oakley?”

Still silence.

“Damn you, Marshal!”

He turned on his heels and went in search of the rest of his men and Little Heap. One way or another, that Stewart was not going to live to see the sunrise.

“Well, I like that,” said Marshall P Knutt, emerging from his room and looking both hurt and worried. “What did _I_ do?”

He sat on the stairs and wondered where everyone’d got to, until it eventually struck him what the Rumpo Kid had actually meant by his outburst.

*

“You know,” said Belle, as the Brigadier locked her in the cell next to Big Heap, “we could have much more fun if you’d let me out.”

He looked back at her. “Really? I don’t have a death wish, Miss Armitage.”

“I might have known,” she sighed, rolling her eyes. “Men! You’re all as bad as each other.”

He smiled at her. “Well, good night. I’ll let you out in the morning.”

“You know,” said Belle quietly, “you’re gonna regret this.”

Before the Brigadier could leave her to it, there was another knock at the door and Annie Oakley burst in.

“Mr Stewart!”

He was startled to see that she seemed genuinely distressed. “Miss Oakley? Is something wrong? Not the Doctor -?”

She shook her head and then swallowed back her tears for good. “I’ve come to give myself up to you.”

“I don’t advise it, honey,” drawled Belle. “Take it from me, it’s a waste of time. This one don’t know a good thing when he sees it.”

Annie gave the older woman a startled look and then caught at his arm. “In private, please,” she said, and motioned to the bedroom behind.

He couldn’t blame her for not wanting to make her confession in front of the sarcastic Belle and drunken Big Heap, who’d suddenly started singing. He ushered her into his room. “What’s happened?”

She bit her lip. “Charlie’s dead.”

“How?”

“It was only a _little_ accident,” she said. 

He frowned. “Miss Oakley, if it was an accident you have nothing to fear. What happened?”

“I shot him."

The Brigadier said, "That's a little harder to explain away. You shot him by accident?"

"Uh huh. With a rifle, a revolver and two handguns.” She gave him an apologetic shrug. “Could have happened to anyone.”

He’d had any number of difficult decisions to make, but even he had to acknowledge that this one was not going to be easy. She’d shot a man and yet if he took her at her word and arrested her here, justice would be swift and brutal. Bad enough in any case, but worse still when she looked so very like _her_. “What were you thinking?”

“I’ll explain,” she said, sitting on the bed. “You see, Sheriff Earp was my father. You knew I was here for a reason, didn’t you? Well, that was it. When I heard he'd been shot, I made up my mind to come here to Stodge and get my man.”

He folded his arms. “But you shot Charlie? Everyone seems to think it was Rumpo who killed Earp.”

“It was,” she said. “And I had him – I so nearly had him – and then he sent Charlie along instead. Well, how was I to know?”

He considered it. “I see.”

“I thought you might help,” she said. “After all, if you’re not a _real_ Marshal, you’ve got no more right to be shootin’ Rumpo than I have. Less so, as a point of fact.”

He raised an eyebrow, since it was something that was easy to forget, given his usual role. “True. Nevertheless, I can’t let you go right away. Miss Armitage saw you come in, so you’ll have to wait until I’ve released her. Then, if you happened to escape, I suppose it would merely be one of those things. But try not to go round shooting any more people if you can help it. _I’ll_ deal with Rumpo – and I’ll hand him over to the law, not shoot him in some underhand manner.”

She gave him a long look from under dark lashes. “I think there were some insults hidden in that offer of help,” she observed. “Still, thank you, Mr Stewart.”

“You did save the Doctor and Marshall,” he reminded her. “I told you, I’m in your debt.”

Annie hugged him.

“I’d best lock you up,” he said hastily. “Come along, Miss Oakley.”

*

“I warned you,” said Belle, when the Brigadier solemnly marched Annie out and locked her in with the other woman. “He's got no heart.”

At that point, Marshall burst in. “Mr Stewart! I came to tell you -” He stopped and stared. “What’s going on here?”

“I suspect your guess is as good as mine,” said the Brigadier. 

Marshall glared. “You can’t arrest Annie! I won’t let you.”

“Really?” the Brigadier said, with little interest. “What did you come to tell me about?”

He drew his gun. “I mean it, Mr Stewart! Let her go at once!”

“Marshall!”

The Brigadier said, “I had good reason. And you seem to be missing half your gun.”

“Oh,” said Marshall, putting it back in the holster and attempting to get the weapon back out in one piece. “That keeps happening. Wait a second. I’ll get it right. And what d’you mean, good reason?”

Annie said, “I had a teensy, tiny accident.”

“Well, then he’s got no right to lock you up for it. Hands up, Mr Stewart.”

Belle took a hand this time. “You might want to point that the _other_ way, Knutt.”

“Oh.”

Annie covered her face with her hands while the Brigadier merely folded his arms and watched.

“Right, well, now you can get back! And give me the key. Annie and I are getting out of here and I’m not going to tell you what I heard. So there.”

Annie took hold of the bars. “Marshall, it is loaded, isn’t it?”

“Loaded?” he said, looking back at her and then back at the Brigadier. “What d’you mean, loaded?”

Belle shook her head. “You should stick to your drains.”

“Oh,” he said and dropped the useless weapon.

The Brigadier sighed, since it was something of a pointless exercise, but he drew his gun and suggested to Marshall that he might like to join Big Heap in his cell.

*

“Sorry, Annie,” said Marshall, sitting on the floor and putting his face in his hands.

She said, “It doesn’t matter. You tried. I think you’re _wonderful_!”

“I’m not. I’m a laughing stock.”

Annie’s face creased in concern. “Marsh, I think you’re pretty unique.”

“Hah,” he said. “That’s only a nice way of saying you’ve never met anyone as stupid as me before.”

She shook her head. “Nuh-huh. I love you!”

“You _do_?” Marshall leapt back to his feet and caught hold of the bars. “You can’t.”

She said, “I don’t know how it is, but from the first moment I saw you -”

Belle said, “Oh, spare me. Marshal, show some mercy. You’re not gonna leave me in here with these two lovebirds spoonin’, are you? Leastways, not without a bucket.”

It would be a lot simpler if he sent her away. She’d probably cause trouble, but not much worse than she’d do here. And then he could free Marshall and Annie. 

“A bucket!” shouted Big Heap. “Ice bucket?” Then he collapsed again.

Marshall turned in concern. “Is he all right?”

“He seems to do that a lot,” said the Brigadier. “I wouldn’t worry.”

There was yet another knock at the door.

“What _now_?”

“Oh,” said Marshall. “You know the thing I wasn’t going to tell you because I was cross with you for locking up Annie? Well, I’d better, because that’s probably Rumpo come to kill you. He’s really mad. He thinks you shot Charlie.”

Annie wrinkled her nose. “Sorry.”

He glanced over at the drainage and sanitation engineer. “Thanks for the warning.”

“No,” gasped Belle. “You can’t let Rumpo find me in here. He’ll kill me!”

He shrugged. “We don’t know it is Rumpo. Besides, I’ve arrested you. I’m sure you can come up with some sob story.”

“True,” she realised, giving a little smile. “He might want to kill you even worse after, but then I can’t think of anyone more deservin’.”

*

Rumpo had been busy. His men had found Little Heap, who had eyed them with suspicion, but he was willing to help if he could rescue his father, Big Heap.

“Got the dynamite in place,” whispered one of his men. “Everythin’s ready.”

He said, “Right, Little Heap. You understand the plan?”

“Yes. Little Heap understand. Take candle into sheriff’s office. Shove it in keyholum and boom. Father safe.”

Rumpo said, “It’s a stick of dynamite, Little Heap. Remember that. There’s a big difference. Okay, kid, are you ready?”

One of the dancing girls was with them. She was chewing gum with a bored expression on her pretty face and pulling a black feather boa around her shoulders in a futile effort to keep out the cold night air. “Just tell me what you want me to do.”

“You go in there, distract the Marshal. Then I come in and shoot him and while Little Heap’s busy in the front, we’ll blow up the back. Hide our traces. Got it?”

She frowned. “How’m I gonna distract him?”

“You serious?” he said. When she nodded, he sighed. “Well, you remember all them things your Momma told you not to do when you came out West?”

The girl said, “Yes.”

“Do them all,” he advised. “Now, get in there!”

*

The Doctor, having escaped the undertaker, set off for the sheriff’s office. He still wasn’t sure about the other doctor, so he set off in the half-hearted hope that the Brigadier might have had better luck.

*

The Brigadier opened the door to find a young woman standing outside – for the third time that evening. This was getting past a joke. 

She smiled and walked inside. “Well, hello there, Marshal.”

“Now what do _you_ want?” he demanded.

She fluttered her eyelashes. “My, that’s no way to treat a girl who’s only come to save you feelin’ lonesome.”

He had to bite back considerable amusement. “Much obliged, but you needn’t have troubled yourself. As you can see, I have plenty of company. I suggest you leave – or I shall arrest you as well!”

She fled, sobbing.

“Well,” commented Belle, “you sure got a way with women, Marshal, I’ll give you that.”

*

“Right,” said Rumpo. “She’s gone in. Off you go, Little Heap. Joe, you get round the back. When I give the signal, light the fuse.”

*

Little Heap lit his ‘candle’, taking no notice of the girl running out of the door. He entered and stopped to find a crowded room. “Oh.”

*

He walked out again, leaving a startled group behind him.

“Did I see what I thought I saw?” queried Belle eventually.

Marshall frowned. “There was something funny about that candle…”

The Brigadier headed for the door, after the unexpected Indian, only to find the Doctor blocking his way.

“Lethbridge-Stewart,” he said. “You don’t mind if I come in for a moment, do you?”

He said, “Why not? You didn’t see an Indian with a stick of dynamite, did you?”

“I did pass a tall man, but I wasn’t paying much attention, to be honest,” he returned and then registered what he had said. “Dynamite? Are you sure you’re feeling all right? And – good grief, what are all these people doing here?”

He glanced at his prisoners. “Believe me, I wish I knew.”

“I might have known this would go to your head, Brigadier,” he told him. “You can’t wander around, arresting people whenever you feel like it. That’s Miss Oakley in there, you know. And Mr Knutt.”

Belle moved to the front of the cell, curious. “ _What_ did you just call him?”

“Yes,” said the Brigadier. He met the Doctor’s gaze with only a quizzical raise of his eyebrow. “What was it you called me and what did you want?”

He coughed. “Ah-hem, yes. Slip of the tongue. The thing is, madam, he reminds me of some pompous old military fool I used to know.” (He wasn’t sure why she was locked up either, but then she was probably trouble. The Wild West seemed to have that effect on humans and the females were no exception.#)

“Well, what did you want?” the Brigadier queried, interrupting the flow of insults as swiftly as he could. 

*

Rumpo was not best pleased to see Little Heap return, stick of dynamite still in hand, the fuse sparkling and hissing. “What are you doing? Get back in there! Stick it keyholum!”

“Sheriff busy,” he informed him.

The outlaw backed away hurriedly, waving his arms in panic. “Put it out! Little Heap, put it out – or get back in there. Just get away from me!”

*

The Doctor didn’t have the chance to explain, as Little Heap returned, the fuse burning dangerously low now.

“Want Father,” he announced, heading for the cell. 

Big Heap sat up abruptly, suddenly fully conscious and intelligible. “Aw. He’s such a good boy at heart.”

The Brigadier considered their options and realised there was only one. “Get down!” he roared.

Everyone dived for the floor, save Little Heap and Big Heap.

Moments later, they were all still crouching down, looking up cautiously at a Little Heap sized whole in the wooden ceiling.

“Oh, dear,” sighed Big Heap. “He always did have his head in the clouds.”

It was then that the rest of the building exploded.

***

# _The Gunfighters_ : You got to watch them Wild West women. Even Dodo pulled a gun on Doc Holliday.


	7. We Don't Do Anything (We're British)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Brigadier heads for a showdown at high noon with Rumpo and the Doctor pursues an unlikely lead. Meanwhile, Annie tells the truth and Marshall finally understands what’s going on.

Captain Keene: “What do we do, sir?”  
Sidney Ruff-Diamond: “Do? _Do?_ We’re British. We don’t do anything...”  
Major Shorthouse: “…until it’s too late.”  
Sidney Ruff-Diamond: “Exactly. That’s the first sensible thing you’ve said all day.”  
( _Carry on Up the Khyber_ ).

***

Rumpo picked himself up and dusted his black suit down and picked bits off his natty waistcoat.

“Okay,” he snapped. “Who didn’t listen? I said, _when_ I give the signal.”

One of his men reappeared. “Curly dropped a match. Happen it was the last thing he ever did.”

“Well,” said Rumpo, “let’s hope he took that darn Marshal with him or we’re gonna have to leave town. Leastways, until I can think of a way to get rid of him.”

*

The Brigadier lifted his head cautiously. The back of the building had been blown in, but the stonework and iron bars around the cells had given them some protection. He pulled himself to his feet and surveyed the mess around him in concern. 

“Doctor?”

“Perfectly fine, Br- er – Marshal,” said a familiar voice from the other side of the desk. The Doctor stood, brushing bits of debris from his jacket. “What an eventful night you seem to be having!”

“Are we still alive?” Marshall P Knutt asked slowly. 

Belle was busy coughing and removing plaster from the front of her blouse. “Just about.”

“The cells are in a bit of state, though,” observed Annie, walking out of hers

Big Heap was still untouched, although his eyes were almost as round as his glasses. “I say, _that_ was fun. Can we do it again?”

The Brigadier frowned. “We’re all unhurt?”

“There’s no need to sound disappointed,” said the Doctor. “Honestly -.”

He said, “Doctor, something's odd here. Granted, we’ve all been lucky, but you saw what happened to Little Heap. That isn’t possible.”

“Isn’t it?” he countered.

The Brigadier glared at him. “If that Doc might be this meddling friend of yours, you should find out.”

“I was trying to,” he said. “I got measured for my coffin for my pains.”

*

“Well,” said Belle, straightening her clothes and moving forward to face the Brigadier. “You can’t detain me here now, can you?”

“I suppose not.”

“And it’s kinda ironic, you know,” she added, moving in closer. “I really _didn’t_ come here to shoot you. I was gonna spill the beans on Johnny and give you everythin’ else along with it. Instead, thanks to you not bein’ much of a gentleman, I’ve learnt that the little trollop over there managed to keep her paws off him, so I’m saved the trouble. Funny old world, ain’t it?”

He said dryly, “Flattered, I’m sure, Miss Armitage.”

“You had your chance and you blew it,” she added, pausing to look him up and down. “Shame. You ain’t as big a fool as most of the men round here.”

He said, “I think you’d better go.”

“Yes,” she agreed. Then she smiled up at him and unexpectedly slapped him hard. “That,” she declared, “is for havin’ such a mean-natured, suspicious mind!”

The Doctor was watching. “Madam, you’re obviously an excellent judge of character.”

“I thought you said you didn’t know him,” she returned, giving him a sharp look. 

“It doesn’t take more than a few hours in a stage-coach to work out when a man’s as narrow-minded, short-sighted, stiff-necked and downright-.”

“Yes, thank you, Doctor. Miss Armitage, if you would please leave.”

She smiled more genuinely as she made her exit. “Like I said, it’s a pity.”

*

“Oh, stop smirking,” said the Brigadier after she’d gone.

The Doctor paused. “I wouldn’t condescend to do anything so childish. What have you been getting up to?”

“It’s a long story,” he returned wearily. “I’m not sure I understand half of it, but one thing is clear. Rumpo’s getting desperate to be rid of me.”

The Doctor looked again round the smoking remains of the sheriff’s office. “Yes, I think we can safely assume that he is.”

“To be honest,” said the Brigadier, “I’m beginning to feel the same way about him.”

*

“So what did you do?” asked Marshall as he escorted Annie back down the street.

She swallowed. “My little accident?”

“Yes, that.”

She said, “I’m afraid I shot Charlie.”

“You… shot… Charlie?” His voice rose with every word. “Miss Oakley! I mean, Annie.”

Annie looked up at him with the bluest of blue eyes. “You know I told you in the stage coach that I was coming here to find the man who killed my father? Well, Rumpo’s the man. Only Charlie walked in at the wrong moment. It was all a mistake.”

“Could have happened to anyone,” agreed Marshall, edging towards hysteria again. “Did you mean what you said back there?”

She nodded.

“But I’m hopeless,” he said. “I’m a drainage, sanitation and garbage engineer, that’s all.”

Annie smiled. “First class,” she reminded him.

“Chipping Sodbury technical college,” he told her, blushing. 

“It’s true,” she said, stopping and straightening his leather waistcoat, still askew from the blast.

He kissed her with enthusiasm and then drew back suddenly.

“Marsh, what is it?”

He stared back at her. “An honest mistake – could have happened to anyone! Oh, _gosh_. Oh, my goodness.”

“I don’t understand.”

He faced her. “Yes, but I’m starting to. It's all my fault!”

*

Marshall found the Brigadier trying to see if he could salvage anything of the sheriff’s headquarters while Judge Burke watched.

“It’s hopeless,” said Burke. He sniffed. “Nice work you’re makin’ of this, ain’t you?”

Lethbridge-Stewart lifted his head. “Actually, I now have something against Rumpo, which was what we wanted, wasn’t it?”

“That’s true,” Burke said. “Oh, leave that mess alone. You can have my office. I gotta go call on a widder lady anyhow.”

“Thank you.”

“ _Now_ can I have a word?” asked Marshall at last.

The Brigadier nodded. “One moment while I ask the judge a couple of questions.”

“Me?” said Burke, taken aback. “I don’t like the tone of your voice, Marshal.”

“I didn’t say anything -- Oh,” said Marshall. “Sorry.”

“This Doc of yours. When did he arrive? Did you ever notice anything odd about him?”

Burke stared back at him. “Doc? He’s been here forever. I mean, he’s not the best, but he’s good enough for Stodge. Like when Rumpo ran down the bank manager the other day. Doc got Josh all excited, sayin’ he was dead, when it was only his watch that had stopped.”

“When did he turn up here?” 

The Judge thought. “Maybe five year ago now? He knew my folks from way back. We founded this town, you know. There’s always been Burkes in Stodge City.”

“Somehow, I can believe it,” said the Brigadier. “But Doc?”

“You’re supposed to be busyin’ yerself with runnin’ the Rumpo Kid outta town, not inspectin’ our level of medical aid.”

“It could be important,” Lethbridge-Stewart returned mildly.

The Judge drew in his breath and shook his head in disbelief, but there was an excited look in his blue eyes. “Well, I never. You reckon Doc is in on this somehow?”

*

“Good morning, Miss Oakley,” said the Doctor, walking up to her.

She gave him a distracted smile. “Same to you.”

“I’ve hardly seen anything of you,” he said. “Have you been avoiding me?”

She shrugged. “Maybe just a little. You know how it is.”

“Yes,” he said thoughtfully. “You should have told me your father was the sheriff.”

Annie gave him a quick smile. “Well, I didn’t know who _you_ were. And I told your friend soon enough. Besides, telling people’d only have caused complications.”

“Yes,” he said. “I understand. Miss Oakley, how do think your father would feel if he knew you were wandering around trying for vengeance on his account?”

She blinked and laughed at him. “Why, what a question! Who d’you think taught me to shoot like this?”

*

“All right, Knutt. What do you want?”

Marshall faced him. “No, Mr Stewart – if that’s even your name – _I’m_ going to ask the questions this time. I’ve finally worked things out, but I don’t know what your game is.”

“What do you mean?”

He folded his arms. “I said: I worked it out. Rumpo got the Indians to attack the stagecoach and get rid of the new Marshal. But you weren’t on the stagecoach. Judge Burke and the others _think_ you were, but it was only Annie and me. It’s all me. I walked in the wrong room in Washington and they thought I was a real Marshal, not some sanitation engineer _called_ Marshall. But if that’s true, you’re not a US Peace Marshal any more than I am. So who are you, Mr Stewart?”

The Brigadier led the way into Burke’s office and offered him a chair. “Sit down. I’ll do my best to explain, but perhaps you could answer a question for me first.”

“Fire away,” Marshall said. Then he paled and started, putting a hand up. “Oh! I didn’t mean -.”

The Brigadier bit back a smile. “I know. Who claimed I was a US Marshal?”

“Oh,” he said. “Well, now, let me think. Judge Burke arrived and he asked… and …oh – it was that friend of yours, the Doctor.” Marshall thought about it some more and played with his hat. “Golly, he doesn’t like you much, does he?”

*

Annie and the Doctor looked up to see Judge Burke running towards them.

“Got a few yards down the road and I saw Rumpo, headin’ this way! We gotta fetch the Marshal!”

She gave a small, wry smile as the sound of hoofbeats and gunshots drowned him out. “Too late. They’re here.”

Judge Burke grabbed hold of the Doctor’s arm in panic. “Ooh, I don’t know how they got the nerve after last night.”

Rumpo rode up to the group and dismounted. “Doctor. Nice to see ya. Me and my men want a little word with you about your friend. Y’see, a little bird told me that he’s not really a Marshal, and I don’t take kindly to being made to look a fool. So you’re gonna take him a little message from me.”

He coughed. “No problem, my dear fellow. What did you want to tell him?”

“Oh, it’ll be easy enough to remember,” he said with a grin and drew his gun. 

The Doctor glared at him. “That’s hardly a civilised way to go about things -”

“Sorry,” he said. “Never did get the hang of polite society.” He fired and the Doctor fell to the ground. The outlaw nodded at Annie and straightened his hat as he remounted. “Miss Oakley. Tell Mr Stewart me and my boys’ll be meeting him at High Noon. We’ll see whose town this is.”

Judge Burke fainted.

*

“I still don’t know who you are.”

He did smile then. “Sit still, Knutt. I told you when we first met, I’m an unwilling traveller and nothing more. The Doctor guessed that a mistake had been made and thought that if one of us was going to stand in for a Marshal that, it should be me and not you.”

“Why?” he asked. “I know I seem a bit useless, but I shot those Indians.”

The Brigadier said, “I’m an officer in the British Army. It’s more my line of work than yours.”

“Oh. I suppose that makes sense. But still,” said Marshall, “I’m not terribly brave, but this is my fault. It’s me they should be trying to kill, not you. So you have to let me help. Otherwise, I’ll tell Judge Burke that you’re not a Marshal and then he won’t be very happy, will he?”

He said, “Don’t worry, Knutt. I understand. I’ll see what I can do, but I could use someone to fix up the cells or I won’t get far arresting Rumpo and I was hoping to avoid a showdown at high noon.”

“Oh, good.”

He said, “That may not be possible. Rumpo’s angry and he’s got nothing to lose. And a lot may depend on Miss Armitage.”

“Miss Belle?”

He nodded. “The Doctor gave me away earlier and she noticed. And now she’s gone running back to Rumpo.”

“I see. If she told him, you’d be in trouble. Oh. That’s not good, is it?”

*

Josh the undertaker was busy taking the prone Judge’s measurements, when the mayor sat up and waved him away sharply. “I do wish you wouldn’t,” he snapped. “Git lost!”

He threw down his notepad in a fit of temper. “That’s not fair! Don’t tell me you’re not dead neither!”

“Of course, I’m not dead,” he said. “Stick around, though and you’ll have plenty of business.”

The undertaker reached for his pencil and paper again. “I s’pose that’s somethin’.”

“What happened to the Doctor and Miss Oakley?”

“The Doc’s taking care of the old feller and Miss Oakley’s gone to tell the Marshal about Rumpo.”

He frowned as he got to his feet. “And they jist left me lyin’ here? Charmin’!”

Josh shrugged, not much concerned.

Judge Burke thought about this. “I’m gonna git outta here. There’s gonna be shootin’. And at high noon, too. Such an _unoriginal_ time, but you know what these ruffians are like.”

*

Annie burst in. “Mr Stewart! Oh, and Marshall, too.”

“What is it?”

She paused. “Rumpo wants to meet you. He’ll be here at noon with all his men. And he shot the Doctor, just to make a point.”

“Good grief,” said the Brigadier. “Is he all right?”

Annie nodded. “Had me worried for a moment, but he says he’s fine. I thought he’d want to help you, but he says to tell you it’s the perfect opportunity to get to the bottom of the real problem. I’m not sure what he meant. I gave him a gun and he looked at me like I was crazy. Is he right in the head?”

“I suppose,” he said, smiling slightly, “that you left him with the Doc?”

“Uh huh. But what’re you going to do? I’m sure you’re a good shot and all, but you can’t go out there, all alone against Rumpo and all his men.”

Marshall interrupted, keeping his head high. “He won’t be alone. I’ll be with him.”

“What?” said Annie. “Marsh, you can’t!”

He faced her. “I know I’m only a sanitation engineer, but I’m not a bad shot. Think of those Indians.”

“I never wanted to have to tell you, but that was me.”

He stared at her. “Oh. That explains how I got three of them with two bullets. I should have known.” He leant over and sniffed her and then drew back. “And it was you who rescued me from being hanged the other night.”

“I’m afraid so.”

Marshall said. “Oh. All the same, I’m the one who’s not supposed to be Marshal here and I’m not leaving Mr Stewart to get shot.”

“I’m not saying you should.” She looked from one to the other. “Can’t you _both_ run away?”

The Brigadier said, “Out of the question. Besides, the Doctor’s up to something. I wouldn’t worry yet, Miss Oakley.”

“He’s not doing anything to stop Rumpo,” she said. “And he doesn’t seem very worried about _you_.”

Marshall said, “Then I can’t go, either.”

“Please, stick to your drains,” she begged. “I don’t want you getting hurt. Or at least, let me help.”

Marshall shook his head. “It’s about time I fought my own battles.”

“Mr Stewart?”

He said, “You’ve already shot one man, Miss Oakley. You should be careful about what you do next.”

“Wait,” said Marshall, catching hold of her. “’Stick to my drains’! Annie, I’ve got an idea. Can you teach me to shoot as good as you?”

She stared. “It’s gone ten!”

“Good, that gives us nearly two hours,” he said and grinned at her.

*

“I’m perfectly all right, you know,” the Doctor informed the ‘Doc’. “It’s only a graze. I fell before Rumpo fired, close enough to fool him. He’s not all that bright, is he?”

He sighed.

“And I know it’s you,” said the Doctor. “I don’t know how you’ve managed to hide so well until now – I even thought it was another of these coincidences, but it’s not. I hate to admit it, but the Brigadier was right. All these clichés and nonsense don’t happen in real life, not like _this_ , anyway.”

The Meddling Monk sat heavily on a wooden chair. “You know, I really was hoping you were dead. You’d be a lot less trouble.”

“That’s not kind. Now, what are you up to this time?”

He chuckled to himself. “Well, it’s too late now, Doctor. I’ve already done what I wanted, so I suppose I can show you.”

“Don’t tell me you’re trying to put Shakespeare on television again.”

He paused and tutted. “In the Wild West? Really, Doctor. Is it likely?”

“So, what are you doing?”

The Monk smiled. “Come out the back and I’ll show you. It’s a lovely little gadget. I think you might appreciate it.”

“I doubt it!”

*

“There,” said the Monk, holding out his hands to reveal a square, metal machine making a faint whirring sound in the middle of the room. “Isn’t it a beauty?”

He examined it. “What is it?”

“Oh, it’s fascinating. I was sent out to confiscate a few of them once, but – well, you know how it is. It seemed a waste. Our people are so boring when it comes to technology they didn’t invent.”

He frowned. “You’re as irresponsible as ever. You realise this thing is altering the fabric of reality itself?”

“Well, that is the point. Oh, don’t look at me like that, Doctor. Don’t you see?”

“No.”

He patted the machine. “People believe the West really was like this, you know. And I thought, well, wouldn’t it be much more fun if it was? I’ve made the myth real!”

“Is this some sort of fictionaliser? That’s obscene!”

He shifted away. “I wouldn’t do that, Doctor. No, it generates – I don’t know quite how to explain – a kind of genre bubble. You programme in details here and everyone within a certain radius gets caught by it. Some people get drawn in from quite a way away. And this time I added a little more comedy to the settings, because I didn’t want to get hurt -”

“How thoughtful,” said the Doctor. “So those who get killed thanks to your interference will know that at least their passing was funny? You’re despicable.”

His face shone, despite the criticism. “But it worked. I made the West _real_ , just for a bit here and there. Everybody’s been drawn in and no one’s questioned it. Well, apart from your terribly sensible friend -. Is he always like that?”

He smiled to himself. “Yes, I’m afraid so. Infuriating, isn’t it?”

“I should say so. Anyway, you see, it’s finished. You can’t undo it now.”

The Doctor coughed. “You didn’t – ahem – I was here once before and it was very like this -.”#

He laughed to himself, seemingly unable to stop.

“Really?” the Doctor said. “Well, you’ll have to put an end to it.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t do that, Doctor.”

He glared. “You’re playing games with people’s lives. It has to stop this instant. Besides, who knows what strain you’re putting on reality? These things were banned for a reason.”

“But still -”

“If you won’t stop it, then I will.” The Doctor pulled out Annie’s gun. “I detest these things, but I suppose when in the Wild West, as they say -. Keep back.”

“Doctor, you really, really don’t want to do this-”

He fired several loud shots at the machine and a cloud of smoke erupted from it as it fell silent, damaged beyond repair.

“You wouldn’t listen, would you?” said the Monk, shaking his head. “You never do. You realise what you’ve done, don’t you?”

The Doctor put the gun back in his pocket. “Yes. I’ve stopped you bringing reality down to its knees and playing with the lives of innocent people. If you hadn’t set this ‘story’ in motion, half of them probably wouldn’t have died! Stories have to have incidents, don’t they? Sheriff Earp, Charlie, five bank cashiers and more, no doubt.”

“No,” said the Monk, interrupting the flow of moralising. “Your friend is meeting a gang of ruthless outlaws in about two minutes from now and you’ve destroyed the one thing that guarantees he doesn’t end up shot dead several times over in about ten minutes from now. _That’s_ what you’ve done!”

***

# _The Gunfighters_ : Dodgiest accents anywhere in the Old West. Stodge City ain't got nothin' on Steven.


	8. Fire At Will!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our heroes take a stand against the villain. It would be a whole lot better if more than one of them could shoot straight…

Captain Keene: “Fire at will!”  
Brother Belcher: “Poor old Will. Why do they always fire at him?”   
( _Carry on up the Khyber_ )

***

The Meddling Monk (who was currently masquerading as Stodge’s less than capable doctor) was still shaking his head. “Outside of stories, one man against a whole band of villains – it doesn’t tend to go too well. I’ll be signing the death certificate off before the hour’s up – another case of lead poisoning, no doubt.”

The Doctor shrugged. “Had to be done. I’m sure Lethbridge-Stewart can take care of himself.”

“How very callous, Doctor. I thought I was the one carelessly putting people’s lives in danger.”

He raised an eyebrow. “If there’s one thing I can safely leave to the Brigadier, it’s shooting things!”

“Oh, well as long as you’re not worried, then,” he returned airily. “Shall we stand here and discuss things while they fight?”

He folded his arms. “I’m well aware that the minute I turn my back, you’ll be off. And I’d like to take a look at your TARDIS.”

“Oh, ho,” he said with a touch of bitterness. “I’m sure you would. I’ve had enough of you meddling with that, thank you very much.”

*

“Marsh,” said Annie, as they continued with their shooting lesson. “That was a bit better. No, not like that. The other way round. Why didn’t you tell Mr Stewart what you had in mind?”

He smiled as he finally managed to draw the gun whole and the right way around without dropping it. “He told me he was an army man. He might think it’s a bit underhand and sneaky, but everyone keeps telling me drains are all I’m fit for, so I don’t see anything else to do but prove them right.”

“Sneaky?” echoed Annie doubtfully. Then she smiled brightly at him. “Good! It sounds like the only way to deal with Rumpo.”

“That’s what I thought.”

They grinned at each other, pleased to find themselves in such agreement for once. Annie kissed him again. 

“Only take care,” she warned him. “I’d feel just _dreadful_ if anything happened to you.”

He shook his head, determination written across his face. “It won’t.” And then he accidentally threw the gun across the room, smashing the bottle he’d been supposed to be aiming at. “Whoops.”

*

The Doctor looked at the still smoking machine and then back at the Monk, who was smiling at him in an insufferably irritating fashion. And while the Brigadier certainly was capable of taking care of himself, the situation had become a little drastic.

In the end, he glared at his rival and snatched up the broken machine. “Well, I shall take this with me!”

“You’re welcome,” called the Monk. “Good luck with the gunfight.”

Some people truly deserved to be taught a lesson and, in this case, it was galling not to be the one to do it.

*

The Brigadier glanced at the clock and made his way to stand at the front of the judge’s office. Burke himself was nowhere to be seen, but since the man was a self-declared coward and there was a gun battle looming, that wasn’t surprising.

While he watched for any sign of Rumpo, Marshall came running back.

“Mr Stewart!”

He came down the step to the street to join him. “What’s this plan of yours, Knutt?”

“Oh, I’m not at liberty to divulge that yet,” he said. “Annie’s been a great help, though. Er. You don’t mind about me and Annie, do you?”

The Brigadier paused. “There’s no reason why I should.” The reserve in his tone would have warned any of his subordinates at UNIT that now was the time to change the subject, but Marshall blithely took no notice.

“Well, I saw the way you looked at her-.”

“I beg your pardon?” By this time, even the Doctor would have got the message, but the amiable young sanitation engineer ignored the chilly edge to his voice.

“When you first saw her,” he reminded him. “I was there, wasn’t I? So I did wonder.”

He said, “I did not -- Knutt, if you must know, Miss Oakley happens to remind me of someone I once knew several years ago. Indeed, the likeness is downright uncanny. You’ll have to forgive me if I was startled for a moment.”

“Oh,” he said and grew more cheerful once more. “Oh, I see.” Then he frowned. “So what happened to this other girl? Oh, I’m sorry. She died, didn’t she?”

“No, she didn’t.”

“So what did happen, then?”

He folded his arms. “I thought you had a plan. You’d better have it ready because Rumpo’ll be here any minute now.”

“All right,” said Marshall with a wink. “I’ll be off, then. We’ll stop that Rumpo. You’ll see.”

He hung back for a moment. The Brigadier eyed him warily. “What is it now?”

“Well, your friend – you don’t think she’s a relation of Annie’s, do you? You could ask.”

There was no stopping the young man – and he meant so well. He had to bite back amusement. “You should get out of here while you still have the chance.”

“Yes, sir!”

*

Johnny Finger, known to his friends and enemies as the Rumpo Kid, rode back into Stodge City, dressed in dusty black clothes and hat.

He paused by the town sign, to chalk out the population figures, altering the number from 200 to 199.

Then he dismounted, his men following suit and they walked down the main street in search of the man who had pretended to be Marshal of Stodge City.

It was going to end in death and Rumpo knew whose. He smiled to himself and drew his gun.

“Stewart! Show yourself!”

*

The Doctor took the heavy machine back to the barn, trying not to let too many pieces drop off it and cause future archaeologists insoluble problems.

It went against the grain to let the Monk run off, but he was a slippery fellow and he’d have managed it somehow. He might as well allow him to make his escape while he still had a chance to prevent Lethbridge-Stewart getting killed.

He wasn’t sure how to do that, but something would come to him. Besides, there probably was no call to worry when it all came down to uncivilised shooting, which was about the only thing the man was good for.

Last time, he’d at least been able to keep out of the way of that sort of thing. #

*

“Here,” said the Brigadier, heading out to meet the gang.

Rumpo tilted his head to one side. “What, no friends at all, Stewart? Look, I’m a fair man – have one of mine.”

“No thanks,” he returned. He smiled slightly in return, making sure that he appeared completely confident. He wasn’t sure what Knutt was up to and whether any plan of that young man’s could truly come off, but it seemed a good idea to worry the outlaw.

He shook his head. “Well, you’ll remember I did offer, won’t you?”

“I shall note it in your defence,” he said.

Suddenly, a shot rang out from an unseen sniper and one of Rumpo’s men gave a cry and fell.

“Hey, Rumpo!” yelled Marshall from nowhere in sight. “You need to get your facts right. I’m here, too.”

He rolled his eyes. “Not the darn plumber!”

Rumpo fired in the direction of the voice, but with no luck. The Brigadier observed a manhole cover being dropped back into place and his amusement became real.

“Best deal with you first, then,” grinned Rumpo, turning back to Lethbridge-Stewart.

*

The Doctor hurried along the street, to find that the awful Rumpo fellow was there already with all his unpleasant friends and the Brigadier appeared to be facing him alone.

He paused in momentary disgust. He’d have thought even Lethbridge-Stewart would have come up with a better plan than standing there, making a target of himself.

It went against almost all of his principles, but he was going to have to take a hand.

*

The Brigadier moved swiftly to one side as the firing began in earnest. Another drain cover moved and Rumpo swung round, hearing Marshall yellow out again.

Knutt fired from the drains as the Brigadier fired his first shot proper, both of them felling a man.

Then he turned to find he had been joined by the Doctor, who was standing there looking at the gun in his hand with dismay.

*

“What on earth do you think you’re doing?” he demanded as he moved back to the side of the nearest building, dragging the Doctor after him. “Do you want to get yourself killed?”

Marshall made another brief appearance and between his location and the Brigadier’s it had confused two of the gang into firing at each other.

“Charming,” said the Doctor. “I thought I’d help you out.”

Lethbridge-Stewart moved forward again. “Surrender, Rumpo?”

“Never!”

The Doctor fired.

*

The fighting paused briefly, but for Marshall hitting another of the outlaws. They all watched as the Doctor’s bullet hit a metal pan hanging outside the store and ricocheted off it, narrowly missing the Brigadier, bouncing improbably off a spade and eventually hitting one of the gang in the foot. He hopped about in momentary agony and then collapsed.

“If that’s your idea of helping,” said the Brigadier, “go and join the other side!”

He smiled to himself. “Don’t you think that’s interesting?”

*

There was only three of the gang left now, Rumpo, and two others. The Brigadier moved back to the centre of the street as Marshall fired several shots again, missing this time, but making one jump and swing round, hitting the other.

“Oh, give me patience,” snapped Rumpo. He moved forward but hesitated on seeing the manhole cover move.

He’d worked it out, realised the Brigadier, about to ask him again to give up, but then the Doctor fired a second time and he ducked hastily.

This time, he’d fired up into the sky and a pigeon dropped out of it.

“Doctor, will you put that wretched weapon down and get out of my way? You’re not helping!”

He nodded and the Brigadier turned to find Rumpo standing directly opposite him. “Looks like it’s just you and me now.”

“Yes,” agreed the Brigadier calmly and fired before he could, shooting the gun right out of his hand.

Marshall climbed out of the nearest drain hole. “Well done, Mr Stewart! Now, shall I shoot him or do you want to do it?”

Behind them, Josh nipped out from the funeral parlour, tape measure in hand and began running about between the bodies. 

*

Rumpo had his hands up, waiting, but before anyone could move, the sound of hoof beats could be heard down the street and a rider galloped towards them on a brown horse.

“Johnny! I’m coming!”

The outlaw laughed suddenly and swung himself up on the horse as Belle rode to his rescue and the two of them sped off in a cloud of dust.

“Stop, or I’ll fire!” shouted Marshall belatedly. He tried but nothing happened. He looked at the gun. “Must be out of bullets.”

“Miss Armitage,” said the Brigadier, watching them go. “I might have known.”

Annie raced out from the side of the street, throwing herself at Marshall. “Well done! You were wonderful!”

“As for you,” said the Brigadier, turning to the Doctor. “What did you think you were doing?”

He smiled. “It’s rather complicated to explain, but I _thought_ the effects of the genre 'bubble' wouldn’t wear off all that abruptly. I was trying a small experiment.”

“You do realise that you’re the only person who’s come close to shooting me today? And considering we’ve just faced a gang of outlaws, that’s saying something.”

The Doctor laughed to himself. “My dear fellow, you’re perfectly unharmed. I don’t see that you have anything to complain about.”

“No,” said the Brigadier. “I suppose it’s precious little difference to the usual. However, I must insist that you get back to work on that dratted machine of yours. Who knows what’s happening back at UNIT? Even if you can get us back, I’m hardly going to be able to explain this away.”

He patted him on the shoulder. They were both looking decidedly dusty and grimy, even the usually impeccable Doctor. “I’m sure I’d be able to think of something. However, I won’t have to. I stopped the Monk and I think I’ve got exactly what I need to kick start the old girl into making the return journey. We’ll never have even been gone.”

“Glad to hear it, Doctor. One last thing: hand over that gun!”

He gave him a hurt look. “There’s no need to start using that tone with me.”

“As far as the townspeople know, I’m still Marshal around here,” he countered. “And you’re clearly not safe with it. Hand it over. Besides, I understand that it belongs to Miss Oakley. I should return it to her.”

The Doctor passed it over carelessly. “I’m relieved to be rid of the thing. I don’t approve of them.”

“So you keep telling me,” the Brigadier observed, taking hold of it. “Thank you, Doctor.”

*

He returned the handgun to Annie, who took it with a smile.

“You were _marvellous_ , Mr Stewart,” enthused Marshall. “I’m not surprised your friend thought you’d do well as a marshal.”

Annie smiled.

“I’ve never seen anyone learn to shoot that quickly,” said the Brigadier. “I was impressed.”

Marshall blushed bright red. “Oh, well, I had Annie’s help. And I didn’t have to worry too much. There were lots of them and they couldn’t get a proper shot at me.”

“So what are you two going to do now?”

“Well, I’m still right about the shameful state of the drainage systems over here,” Marshall said. “It’s shocking. You wouldn’t believe how far behind the times they are. Maybe Annie and I’ll move on places – clean up other towns in our different ways.”

“And maybe Marsh’ll be able to help me out every now and then,” she put in. “Although I won’t be any use to him as I don’t know much about drains.”

“I’ll teach you.”

“Nuh-huh,” said Annie. “I don’t think so.”

The Brigadier coughed. “Right, well, I shall take my leave of you. The Doctor and I have to be off.”

“It’s been a pleasure,” said Marshall, shaking his hand. “Hasn’t it, Annie?”

She agreed and then nodded for the younger man to leave. She faced the Brigadier. “Marsh tells me that I look like some old flame of yours.”

“That wasn’t what I said, and in any case -”

She shook her head, the laughter back in her blue eyes. “No, I’m not going to pry. I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t take kindly to that. I was only going to wish you good luck – and I hope you find her again.”

He did not argue, not bothering to explain the complications, merely accepting the sentiment in the spirit it was offered. Annie tiptoed up to kiss him on the cheek and then drew back as the Doctor arrived.

“I’m about ready, Brigadier,” he announced. He glanced at him. “Every time I leave you alone for two minutes in this town, I seem to return to find you with some girl draped in your arms.”

Annie attempted a stern look in his direction. “Hardly, Doctor. Marsh knows what I’m about. I hear you’re going?”

“Hopefully.”

She hugged the Doctor tightly now. “Then take care.”

“I always do,” said the Doctor. “And you’ll try not to go round shooting too many people, won’t you?”

“Come on, Annie,” said Marshall, reappearing. “If you’re going to do that sort of thing, you’d better remember that I know how to shoot now.” He pulled the gun out of his holster proudly, then it span in his clumsy fingers and fell on the floor.

She winked at the other two. “Uh-huh. I’m terrified, Marsh.”

*

“Well, I hope you enjoyed that,” said the Doctor as he led the Brigadier back into the barn and across to the console. “You always want to shoot at things.”

The Brigadier opened his mouth and then shut it again.

“It never solves anything, you know,” he continued.

“Doctor, I never asked to be part of some ridiculous western. I’d far rather have been able to arrest Rumpo and leave him to be dealt with by the law. Unfortunately, he went and blew up the jail.”

“Any excuse,” said the Doctor.

He wondered why he bothered even attempting to explain. “If there’s good reason, you know I won’t hesitate...”

“I had noticed!”

“…But it’s no way to settle an argument,” he finished. “Can we leave now?”

“My dear fellow, you were the one standing round talking. I’m quite ready. Shall we see if this works?”

The Brigadier merely caught hold of the console and refrained from commenting.

They vanished, never to be seen in Stodge City again.

***

# _The Gunfighters_ : There was a shoot out at the OK Corral with Wyatt Earp and Doc Holliday and the Clantons… Yep, it's _still_ a long story.


	9. Epilogue: But Never With A Daffodil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The good people of Stodge (and UNIT) move on. With three cameos.

_  
Colonel: "Come, come, Matron. I’m sure you’ve seen a temperature taken like this before."  
Matron: "Oh, many times, Colonel. But NEVER with a _daffodil_!" (Carry on Nurse)_

_***_

The good citizens of Stodge City – or at least, what was left of them – were back to playing Happy Families at the saloon. It was mighty inconvenient not havin’ a bartender or Belle, but that wasn’t what was troublin’ them.

“He’s not dead,” said Burke to Colonel Sam Houston. “And here we are, still without a sheriff. That Marshal’s gone off, so’s his deputy and even the Doc’s done a runner.”

Josh threw his hand in. “I reckon he’s gone out and died in the desert just to escape a decent burial. Enough to break a man’s heart that is. It’s not as if all them outlaws was dead, neither.”

“Honestly, you’d complain about anythin’,” retorted the Judge. “They was dead enough once we’d hanged thim, wasn’t they?”

It was then that they heard the stage coach arrive.

*

The three men watched the woman emerge from the coach. She was built on large and formidable lines, middle-aged with dark-hair, bright brown eyes and her black dress might as well have been a suit of armour. Dragon was the word for her, albeit a truly sharp observer might have noticed the faintest curve of humour to her smile (although they would probably have been rewarded with a gorgon’s stare for saying so).

“I’m looking for Johnny Finger,” she declared. “I understand he calls himself the Rumpo Kid. The ridiculous names that men call themselves…”

Judge Burke moved forward. “Oh? What’s your business with him?”

“I’ve got a score to settle with him,” she informed him coolly. “I’m his wife.”

They looked at each other.

“Madam,” said Burke, taking her arm. “I can honestly say I’m _ecstatic_ to meet you and I think I might have a little proposition for you…”

*

He picked himself off the dusty street, straightened his jacket and replaced his hat, his ears still ringing from the hardest slap he’d ever received and headed off to explain that obviously he hadn’t meant anything of _that_ nature.

“She’s exactly what we need,” he decided. He stretched his face again. “What a marvellously lethal woman!”

Judge Burke, a Wright-Burke of a long and proud line of Wright-Burkes of Stodge City, raced after the newcomer, rubbing his hands with glee.

He’d like to see that outlaw ever turning up here again with her waiting for him – or anyone else for that matter. This, he thought, could finally be their answer to prayer and he never thought he’d say that about a woman.

***

“Well, here we are,” said the Doctor cheerfully. He glanced up at the clock in the lab. “Only about ten minutes after we left. You shouldn’t have to resign over a matter of minutes.”

The Brigadier released his hold on the TARDIS console. “Thank goodness for that. I’m certainly not going anywhere near one of your experiments again.”

“Yes, I’d rather you didn’t,” said the Doctor. “I don’t want to end up trapped somewhere else with only a pompous idiot for company.”

The Brigadier eyed him with hostility. “Doctor, I _am_ still armed. Don’t tempt me.”

“I thought you said that was no way to settle a quarrel?” he countered and beamed at him. “I knew you weren’t all that civilised.”

At that moment, there was a knock at the door and Sergeant Benton entered. “Sir, there’s someone to see you-.” He paused and fought a battle to keep from staring at the Brigadier, still in his Wild West marshal’s outfit.

“Yes, I know, Benton,” said the Brigadier, removing the hat. “Ask the Doctor. I suppose I’m going to have to explain the loss of that uniform. It was in the sheriff’s quarters when it went up.”

The sergeant duly managed to close his mouth. “Er, is it a fancy dress party, sir?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” retorted his commanding officer. “Well, what did you want?”

Benton coughed. “I came to say that the new man’s here, sir. The captain. I told him to come on in -. I couldn’t imagine there’d be any reason not to, as long as the Doctor hadn’t blown anything up again.”

They all turned as the aforesaid new captain entered. To his credit, he only blinked and then said, “Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart, I presume?”

“Captain Yates, I take it?” returned the Brigadier, refusing to acknowledge that there was anything amiss. “You’re late. You should have been here an hour ago.”

“My train was delayed, sir.”

“Benton,” said Lethbridge-Stewart. “Perhaps you would be good enough to show him around? I’ll see him later.”

Mike Yates grinned at Benton as the Brigadier marched off. “They told me that this would be interesting. It looks as though they were right.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Benton told him fervently. “Sir.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With thanks to the late, great Kenneth Williams (Judge Burke), Joan Sims (Belle), Peter Butterworth (Doc), Charles Hawtry (Big Heap), Bernard Bresslaw (Little Heap) and Sid James (Rumpo). And to the wonderful Hattie Jacques whom I gave a cameo at the end.
> 
> Credits/ Disclaimers:   
> Story (and some dialogue) taken from the film _Carry On Cowboy_ (scripted by Talbot Rothwell).   
>  Carry On franchise owned by Gerald Thomas & Peter Rogers.  
> ‘How the west was lost’ was the tagline for _Carry On Cowboy_.  
>  _Doctor Who_ is copyright of the BBC and BBC Wales.
> 
> I own nothing and clearly this story is a lot of tom-fool nonsense.


End file.
